


That Looks on Tempests

by pudupudu



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: F/M, here there be cats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pudupudu/pseuds/pudupudu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The development of Fred and Win's relationship from their first meeting onward. With Fred's (often dangerous) police work, his absence during the war and all that they have faced in between, theirs is really a relationship unshaken by tempests.</p>
<p>Includes moments of romance, moments of angst and a lot of fluff (both in fiction terms and in feline form... pets have minds of their own!)</p>
<p>Co-written with a friend. This is going to be a long un!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

It was Win’s first day at her new job and she had pressed her blouse flat more times than she could count already. She wanted this to go well, she needed to create a good impression. Fortunately she had found her way to the police station without incident. Having only recently moved to London from the outskirts of a small village in Cumbria, she was finding the big city daunting but exciting. A fresh start, at last, no more stagnation! And she set herself down at her typewriter, took a deep breath and begin to type up the police notes she had been given to begin with.

Detective Constable Fred Thursday made a point of greeting the secretarial staff on his way to his own desk, since to get there he had to pass their office and the way most of his colleagues sauntered on past without so much as a glance grated on him somewhat. It was only courteous to give them the time of day; their tasks were not much smaller than some of the general duties with which police constables occupied their time, and they were still part of the station. Most days, he was met with a familiar mixture of greetings, but this morning when he paused to say good morning, he spotted somebody new. Quietly pretty, looking very neat as if she were as new to the world as she clearly was to the desk.

She gave the tall policeman a shyly polite smile, looking up at him expectantly, clearly waiting for some further task to me given. She made sure she remained still, conscious of her habit of fidgeting slightly when nervous, and waited for instruction. Win was also very careful not to look too long into his eyes; he was an attractive man, that could be noticed from any distance, but one glance at his eyes dark and smiling and she feared she might drown in them. She chastised herself for such thoughts, but they remained.

He wasn’t sure if it was her own smile, or the fact that she seemed slightly nervous of him, but before he knew it he was returning her expression - a sincere smile that felt even easier than the casual one of greeting he was used to giving out. When she shifted her eyes from direct contact, he shook himself slightly and returned to his original plan, the previously uncomplicated task of saying hello. “Morning, Miss...?” He hoped she wouldn’t think it too much of a liberty; surely not. She couldn’t know she had sparked anything inside him yet.

“Kelly. Winifred Kelly, sir,” she could feel herself colouring a little and cursed her expressive face. She averted her blue eyes from him again for a moment to ground herself, before meeting his gaze again so as not to be rude. “What is it I can do for you, sir? I’m new today but I want to make myself useful.”

“Less of the sir,” he smiled again, “The name’s Fred, Fred Thursday. DC, but only just. I’ve not long got in today, so I’ll have a look if there’s anything on my desk, but, err... I might be able to find something to occupy you on your lunch break, there’s...there’s a little tea room in the next road, if you don’t think I’m being too forward.” Funny how he said it before he’s decided if he should or not; but it was too late now. He looked at her expectantly.

She coloured more. “That would be lovely, sir... Fred. And it’s Win.” She could barely believe her luck. Some of the other girls were looking at her, she could feel their eyes. They’re jealous, she thought, but she might have been projecting- SHE certainly would have been had he asked one of the other girls. “I’m new to London, it’ll be good to find my way about a little more.”  
Her blush was, incredibly, even more endearing than her smile, and Fred silently rejoiced, hoping he didn’t look quite as delighted as he felt because it may have come across strangely. Seeing her become conscious of her companions’ glances, he decided not to prolong this meeting, since it’s now guaranteed not to be their last of the day. “Shall I meet you here at... is it half-past twelve you have your break?” He inwardly grimaced at the question-within-a-question. 

Win smiled and nodded “half-past twelve, yes... I look forward to it.” She blushed a little more, looked down, took a breath and looked up again “I hope you have a good morning. I should be done with these notes by lunch time so I can take on anything else afterwards.”

He nodded “Thank you, I hope you do as well.” Afterwards. What a word, who knew how many things will be different in the afterwards that followed that day. “Well, I’ll see you very soon.” One last smile, and a friendly wave at the other secretaries whose curious eyes were turned on him. He made a concentrated effort not to walk with too much of a spring in his step as he made his way to his own work station.

Win made an equally conscious effort not to stare after him as he went, instead very purposefully looking down at her work. And if her smile remained? Well, no one could fault her for being cheerful. She was also productive, relishing the work and the knowledge that it was important to a wider cause, that of justice. She felt very proud that she would be going out for tea with a police man.

As the morning went on, Fred caught himself glancing up at the clock more than once in the lulls before and after his one venture from the station - just a routine inquiry - and hoped nobody noticed he was willing the hands to move just slightly faster. He was working mechanically through a list of small business proprietors who had reported thefts similar to the current spate of violent break-ins, looking for links, though he was fairly sure there’d be none, and it was monotonous enough that his thoughts returned to Win fairly frequently, though he tried to discourage them. At two minutes to half-past, he had finished the page he was on, and it seemed a shame to start the next one with so little time to spare. Perhaps he’d be better spending the time...standing up. And getting his coat. And preparing things to say so that he wouldn’t accidentally blurt something about her being very beautiful, even though it was true.

Thursday’s Inspector, a gruff, grumpy, but good man, chose just that moment to emerge from his office. “Ah, Constable- a moment, please?” he motioned to the door he had recently stepped through. Win, who was just about to rise from her desk and get her own coat, saw the exchange and sat down again, catching Fred’s eye and gave him a look that she hoped said ‘it’s alright, I understand, your work’s important.’

He returned her glance with an apologetic look, and was at least mollified by the fact that she seemed more understanding than disappointed. He thought about mouthing ‘tomorrow?’ but was all too conscious of Inspector Baxendale’s proximity, and of the seconds which had passed in which he’d done nothing to move towards the door. And, with a wrench, he did so, feeling a little deflated, but slightly pleased that Win’s immediate reaction was consideration for the job at hand. Obviously she had a sound head on her shoulders.

At first Win considered waiting for the Constable to finish speaking with his Inspector before taking her lunch, but half an hour later he still wasn’t finished and her stomach was beginning to protest. She had sandwiches with her, and considered either taking them to the police canteen or sitting outside with them. The spring air was brisk but the sun was shining. Her plans were soon made for her, however, as some of the girls invited her for lunch with them. Really wanting to get to know them, she agreed quickly. She grabbed her coat and scribbled a quick message, leaving it and the sandwiches on Fred’s desk.

“Thank you, Thursday, lad. See to it that the report’s finished first thing tomorrow.” The Inspector showed Fred to the door a few moments later, and he glanced in the direction that had been Win’s, only to see she was gone. Good, he was glad he hadn’t ruined the whole of her first lunch with a promise he couldn’t fulfil; hopefully she’d found someone to go with. He begrudged them slightly the opportunity to show her the little slice of London that surrounded the station, but all was not lost. When he saw the sandwiches on his desk, his face became a grin from ear to ear, and he pocketed the note as soon as he’d read it. Safe-keeping. He sat down at the desk and opened the paper the sandwiches were wrapped in. Cheese and pickle. He didn’t remember it tasting quite so happy before.


	2. Good Things Come...

Win enjoyed her lunch; the girls were all very friendly and it turned out they had a lot more in common than she might have anticipated, given their different backgrounds. They told her all the gossip about the station’s policemen, which ended with them giggling like school girls as they whispered about the dashing ones. Fred’s name was mentioned several times and the girls admitted to being jovially jealous of her being invited out. They laughingly offered to accompany her the next day- ostensibly for the sake of her honour but actually so they could gaze into his dark eyes and appreciate his broad shoulders and velvet voice.

For his part, Fred received a knowing look from the officer whose desk was nearest his; DC Parks was nice enough, if a bit of a tease, and offered a funny comment about the girl who’d been in to slip a lunch bag onto his desk. Fred gave him a conciliatory chuckle, though he didn’t find it quite as amusing. He thought of the note in his pocket, and allowed himself a small smile at the fact that her brief message, at least, was his alone.

Win returned to her desk cheerful and well fed. She saw the carefully folded brown paper on Fred’s desk and caught his eye to give him a smile, feeling unaccountably proud that he had eaten them. She had finished her work that morning and she decided to be bold, approaching the constable’s desk rather than sitting at her own. “You said you’d have some work for me, sir?”

“Did I now?” He looked up at her and grinned, eyes twinkling. “Let’s see.” There was that report for tomorrow, of course... “You could get this typed up I suppose, and if I could just trouble you once more to call me Fred....” He winked. “Sorry about lunch, but thank you for the sandwiches. Lovely. Shall we try again tomorrow? I’ll tiptoe past the old man’s office next time, and we might even make it outside.”

Win chuckled “do you think the stealth wise? He might suspect we’ve eloped.” On realising what she’d said, she raised a hand to her mouth, eyes wide “I’m so sorry, Fred, I didn’t mean...” her cheeks were distinctly pink and she looked mortified. “Gosh... I really should have...” she paused and took a breath “what was it you wanted me to type?”

Fred burst out laughing, genuine amusement at her expression mixing with a slightly frantic need to reassure her that he hadn’t taken her seriously. “Well, quite!” he managed, “We wouldn’t want him thinking that.” After a pause, he added cheekily, “He’d probably want an invitation if it came to nuptials. But I think we should probably start with slightly smaller steps!” He picked up the papers, not giving them to her yet. “If I hand this to you now while you’re still embarrassed, you’re going to rush off straight away, aren’t you? Maybe I should withhold it.” Another wink.

Win was still blushing, but smiling now. “No rushing off. I promise. Are there any specific things I need to keep in mind with the report typing? I understand that the formatting is very important.” She sat down opposite him, taking the papers she had offered and pulling a small book from her pocket to make notes as he instructed her.

“Yes, but not to worry, it looks quite posh when it’s finished but it’s not difficult to do.” He opened his top desk draw and pulled out an earlier completed report, opening to the front page to show her an example. He outlined the basics of the required formatting, emphasising important points where needed. “I think that’s more or less all, but then again I may well have purposefully left some things out so you’ll have to come back and ask me.”

Win had four brothers so she didn’t think twice about swatting him with her notepad for being cheeky. This time she didn’t blush, but grinned at his suddenly startled expression and returned to her desk with the files, victorious.

Fred watched her go for as long as he had sight of her, feeling more than a little enchanted. His shoulder smarted very faintly, but he was soon smiling the sensation away. He looked down at the papers on his desk; for a few seconds none of the words were conveying any meaning to him. Eventually he returned to his senses, the smile still etched across his face as he continued to work.

The next day the two of them managed to escape the station for lunch without incident, both of them looking forward to the trip even more than they had the previous day. The anticipation had been good for them, it seemed. They walked in close file through the bustling East London streets, Win talking emphatically, using her hands for emphasis and occasionally having to apologise sincerely as she nearly hit an unsuspecting passer-by in her enthusiasm.

Fred listened to the snippets of her upbringing with genuine interest, and prompted with questions whenever she began to trail off. Partly because her voice was so pleasant to listen to, and partly because he couldn’t imagine wanting her to stop until he knew every last thing about her that there was to know. He realised it was an unrealistic goal, but felt he was entitled to the desire. Yes, it was early days - so early that the days had only just reached plurality, even - but he had an awful feeling that he might just be ever so slightly smitten. Except it wasn’t an awful feeling at all.

Win insisted on paying her way in the cafe- she spent her whole life being told that she must rely on men, and one of her main motivations in moving to London was to prove everyone wrong. She bought herself a slice of quiche and, feeling like treating herself, a small slice of carrot cake to go with her cup of tea. She tried to buy for Fred as well, but he insisted that he couldn’t possibly allow it. One day, she promised herself. One day I will.

Fred waited until her back was turned before showing his amusement on his face. It had been a little disappointing, because he really did want to treat her, independently of any dated social convention, but her point-blank refusal to be bought for was so refreshing that it tickled him for a moment. He had restored a neutral expression by the time they reached their table, and he pulled out a chair as a fun experiment to see if she’d sit in it or if her independent spirit would forbid such a thing.

She raised an eyebrow, but sat because she had her hands full and quiche and cake had priority over needing to assert herself. She was a practical woman at heart. “What are you having, Fred?” she asked, wondering if her guess might have been correct. She privately considered herself to be quite good at judging peoples’ food tastes- her mother having died several years, she had been the woman of the house and therefore in charge of the arrangements for the family’s numerous social gatherings. Deciding on the menu was key to satisfied guests.

He looked down at his empty hands, as if noticing them for the first time. “Oh, yes,” he said, hoping it sounded smooth and unruffled. “I knew I’d forgotten something.” He quickly scooted back to collect his order from the counter, blustering apologies at the bemused lady standing behind it. He paused momentarily behind Win before returning to his seat. “Take a guess?”

She studied him again for a moment and then responded. “A slice of the steak pie with a lashing of gravy and some mash on the side and a fairy cake to follow... vanilla with chocolate butter cream.” She nodded decisively and took a bite of her quiche, humming a little in appreciation. She must remember to leave a good tip and compliments to the baker.

He did not reply immediately, and when he did, he spoke slowly. “Either you have eyes in the back of that pretty head,” he began, “or...or that is just uncanny.” He set the steak pie down on the table, and the cake next to it. “Where did you learn a trick like that? I think the wrong one of the two of us is playing at being a detective.”

Win smiled at him. She accepted the comment about her appearance but was truly flattered by his compliment to her detecting skills. “It’s a bit of a party trick, I suppose. My father’s in politics and we had a lot of guests. I always set myself the challenge of guessing exactly what they’d like on their plates- it was all rather tedious otherwise.”

“Well, I’m impressed!” Fred enthused, somewhat redundantly after how impressed he probably sounded in his original comments. “That could probably be put to good use, you know. If I ever need that particular skill in a case, I’ll have to come and find you.” And hopefully he wouldn’t have to go far, he thought to himself. Maybe, say, to the next room? It was a thought of the utmost impertinence, naturally, and he shooed it away.

Win smiled, feeling a sudden wave of affection towards him. There was nothing false about him, she could see that, and she had seen the way he had given the young man who served him a tip and a compliment on his manner. He wasn’t courteous to her because she was a woman, he was courteous towards her because she was a human being, and that was the kind of chivalry she prized.

He returned her smile, feeling at ease, as if he’d known her two decades rather than two days. For a few moments they munched in silence, Fred still marvelling slightly that she’d even got the flavour of his cake. She could, conceivably, have seen him eying the cake display, and maybe narrowed it down to a few that were near each other - but to get the exact one... it was a talent, and something told him it wasn’t her only gift. He could only hope he’d get the chance to find out what the others were.

Before leaving, Win insisted on leaving her own tip and thanking the chef. They headed back together; sated by the food, Win didn’t talk as much on the return journey, but her silences were those of contentment, and she walked close to Thursday’s side. “Thank you for that,” she said as they reached the station’s main entrance “I really enjoyed myself.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” said Fred, and meant it. “Really. Although... if you want to argue the point, I’m open to a rematch to see who should be thanking who.” He smiled, warmly, and opened the door for her.

“Saturday... I’ve invited some of the girls around for dinner and I’d love for you to come too. Sample some of my cooking.” She looked a little nervous, worried she might have been going too far, but at least she hadn’t invited him alone.

He was thrown for a fraction of a second, thrilled that she’d accepted his offer by extending her own - and what an offer it was. “I’d be delighted.” he told her truthfully, “thank you.”

She smiled, eyes lighting up. “Fantastic, I’ll give you my address. If you’re thinking of bringing something, lemonade will be just the ticket,” she grinned.

“Your wish is my command. I’m looking forward to it already.” Goodness, he thought, it’s only Tuesday. Four whole days! Still, even the thought of slow days holed up in the station now sparkled with the potential for lots of little conversations and glances between the two of them. He had a feeling the week might just fly by.


	3. 'The Chosen One'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred heads to Win's for her dinner party and makes an unlikely new friend.

That Saturday found Win wearing one of her best day dresses. She had her hair done, a vanity she didn’t usually allow herself except on very special occasions. Though at first she had bristled at the idea of her father giving her an allowance for her accommodations, she was now extremely glad of having been able to afford a whole flat to herself rather than a room in a lodging house. She enjoyed entertaining guests, it was something she excelled at, and there would have been no room for such things in shared house. She stirred the sauce one last time, removed the cat from the sofa and all just in time to welcome her first guest. She took a deep breath and brushed down her dress before opening the door.

Fred had stood, hand twitching at the door knocker for a minute or two, wondering if he was going to be the first guest to arrive and wondering if that was alright. Probably it was, but he couldn’t seem to squash the temptation to overthink every last detail of this whole event, down to the tie he had chosen (pale blue) and which shoe to polish first (the right). When he finally went for the knocker, the door was opened quite promptly. There she was standing there, looking really quite splendid in a pretty dress. “Hello,” he said, and then, “You look very nice.”

She looked him up and down with a smile in her eyes “hmmm. You’ll do, Fred” she met his eyes then, neither of them moving anywhere for a moment, before she stepped aside to let him through. “You brought the lemonade!” her voice was tinkling with laughter, “wonderful!” She took the bottle from him and their hands brushed. She showed him where to hang his hat and coat and went through to the kitchen to put the bottle down, poking her head out to ask if he fancied a glass now.

“Might as well!” he accepted cheerily, glad she seemed satisfied with what he’d brought. He was then promptly distracted by the presence of the cat, who came to wind itself around his legs and purred at him in greeting. “Hello there,” he said, bending to stroke its head, to which it replied by increasing the volume of the purr still further. “What’s your name, then?”

She watched him through the crack between the door and the frame for a moment, smiling, lemonade glass in hand, before bringing it out to him. “That’s Artemis. She’s usually a little wary of strangers, you must have a knack!” she placed his glass on the table for him before crouching down to join him in stroking her cat. She was genuinely surprised- her cat was very selective when it came to humans. It was a great relief that she had chosen to accept this particular one.

“That,” Fred mused, “or she’s just an excellent judge of character.” He glanced at the lemonade glass, “Thanks. Interesting name, Artemis, where’d you get that?” The cat was clearly in her element, now that she had the attention of two humans. Secretly Fred was quite chuffed about her acceptance of him; he had by no means any special connection with animals in general, so perhaps this one had just taken a random liking to him.

Win smiled at them both, cat and man, “it’s from Greek mythology. Artemis was the mistress of animals.” She tickled under the cat’s chin. “It seemed to suit, somehow.” Eventually she was forced upright by another knock on the door. She was more than slightly disappointed that her other guests had arrived, but she trampled that feeling down before she opened the door, all cheerfulness. Everything in its time. Good things come, etc... Nowhere near as enthralled by the new invaders, Artemis hid under the piano.

Fred felt a tiny bit affronted at the cat’s immediate abandonment of him, but straightened up and took a sip of his lemonade as he listened to Win greeting her other guests. He thought he could distinguish a couple of the voices but mainly what they communicated to him was that he was no longer the only (non-feline) claimant of Win’s attention, and he inwardly chastised himself for minding. It had been a group invitation, he’d known that... and he didn’t want to monopolise her, did he? Well, maybe a bit. But only for nice reasons.

Win made sure to include them all in conversation, pouring drinks- both alcoholic and otherwise- and generally being a lively host. Dinner was enjoyed and by the time they had finished and returned to the living room, Artemis had removed herself from under the piano and was instead under the sofa. As soon as Fred sat down, she extracted herself and bounced lightly onto his lap. Win was stunned “I’m sorry, Fred, she’s never...”

He chuckled at her dismay. “Don’t be! It’s quite all right...” Artemis had settled down on top of him now, and was again purring delightedly. “Like I said, she’s a good judge of character.” He stroked the cat gently and grinned round at Win and his fellow guests. He had to admit to feeling a tiny bit smug at his reinforced position as the Chosen One.

Artemis, ignoring the other humans completely, nosed one of his big hands for more strokes, eyes heavy lidded with pleasure. The girls had to go home first, one of their husbands providing the escort, so Win found herself once more alone with Fred. She smiled at him as he sat on the sofa, still with cat, and added another log to the fire. Spring was bringing with it pleasant daytime sunshine, but the nights were still bitterly cold.

“You make an excellent hostess, Miss Kelly,” he remarked as she returned to the sofa, punctuating the formal mode of address with an ironic grin. He glanced about the room, drinking in the pleasant homey-ness of it all. It was tastefully furnished and the log fire only increased its beauty. His eyes rested on the piano, and he decided to ask, with a nod in its direction, “Do you play?”

Win nodded “I dabble, more than anything. The problem is that whenever I play I always hear my mother, and then I feel ashamed that I’m nowhere near as deft as she.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but do you sing at all? There’s a certain quality to your voice.” It sounds like melted chocolate, she didn’t add.

Fred raised his eyebrows. “I...occasionally have been known to sing. Due rather more to enjoyment than talent, though I’m flattered you...approve of my vocal chords.” He smiled at her. He’d been made aware in the past that his voice was not unpleasant to listen to, though it wasn’t something he’d given an awful lot of thought to himself. His voice was his voice. It was just what happened when he made words into sound.

Win went to the piano and removed the cover, sitting down and patting the bench beside her “come and join me, give your vocal chords a stretch, your fingers too.” Again, she didn’t tell them that she thought his hands are magnificent, though she did. Artemis wouldn’t appreciate being shifted, but she’d been silently envious of that cat, curled up on Fred’s lap for hours.

For some unknown reason Fred felt tempted to hesitate at first, but then summoned whatever courage was required (surely not much; and yet, and yet) and extricated Artemis’ claws from his trousers, where she suddenly tried to grip on for dear life when he made the move to shift her. He crossed to the piano and sat down next to Win, their closeness on the stool rather making up for having had her company diluted by the other guests earlier.

Win smiled when he set his hands down beside hers “you do play, then.” She began to play and sing a little in a soft alto, giving him a softly encouraging look before turning her head back to the music and continuing. Artemis bounced majestically up to the top of the piano, looking down at her human’s hand as she played, and her human’s hands as they rest beside hers. They’re nice hands, give good strokes.

Having some idea of where she was going but not a full knowledge of the piece, Fred joined in where he could, adding notes with both his voice and the keys. He picked out a harmony to her tune without too much difficulty, and was more than a little bit pleased with the result. They sounded nice together, he allowed himself to think. Artemis watched them with what might be disdain for the fact they’re using their hands for purposes other than to fuss over her, and Fred wavered from the words of the song to sing “sorry, Artemis” at her, hoping to amuse one of his companions and placate the other.

Win kept singing, though through chuckles, and their hands brushed on the keys as they had on the bottle. When they finished, she kept her hands beside his for a while, smiling at him sweetly. Their gazes lingered for quite some time. Deciding that was quite enough time for the humans to be paying attention to each other rather than her, Artemis bounced down onto the keys with a clatter, making them both jump.

“Ah, Artemis, what are you going to play for us?” Fred said, quickly hiding his displeasure at having that particular moment interrupted. The cat nuzzled his hands pointedly, and he obligingly stroked her, his hand brushing against Win’s yet another time as she joined in. Artemis was oblivious, or perhaps smugly indifferent, of what her piano-hop had caused.

Artemis’s paws tinkled on the keys as she rubbed against them both. She pressed herself against Fred, scenting him. If he was to be her human’s human she’d better make him hers as well. Win wasn’t consciously stroking in the same places as Fred was, but their hands brushed several more times nevertheless. Their outer thighs touched at one point and she felt her cheeks warming. 

Fred noticed the slightest hint of blush in Win’s cheeks but discreetly ignored it, though he made no move away from her to prevent it happening again. It didn’t look as if Artemis would be too pleased with such a development in any case. “How long have you had her?” He asked after a moment or two.

“Three years,” Win supplied, “since she was a kitten.” She tickled a spot behind Artemis’s ear which she knows she favoured. “Have you any pets? You clearly have a knack” she smiled at him warmly. Artemis looked between them and would have sighed if she were able. Foolish humans.

Fred considered. “Not at the moment, but we always had a cat while I was growing up. At least one, sometimes a couple. And once a litter of kittens - but they had to be given away. Don’t really have time for a cat now, work can tend to drag on when there’s a case.” He chuckled at Artemis as she nudged indignantly at the hand which had paused its ministrations while he was thinking.

“We always had animals: cats, dogs, horses, chickens, a goat or two, a pig once a year... sadly only Artie could come here with me,” she gave her a sweeping stroke from nose to tail. “I think she much prefers being the centre of attention, though.” She kept stroking, but met Fred’s gaze, this time holding it.

“Yes, well,” he said slowly without breaking the contact, “might have a job keeping a horse in the flat.” He ended it with a smile, suddenly becoming all too aware of how close they were, still on the piano stool, still fixed in each other’s gaze.

Win caught his gaze flit down to her mouth and found herself leaning closer. Their kiss is chaste, a peck more than anything, but it made her cheeks burn hotter and it was a battle for her not to make any noises that might compromise. His lips were warm and soft and, all in all, it held far more promise than the only other ‘kisses’ she’s experienced (though granted they were of the slobbery canine, or occasionally equine, variety).

Afterwards, Fred could only grin at her in what he’s afraid is a manner similar to that of a dreamy adolescent, but he couldn’t help it. The only thing he could think of to solve the problem is to lean in once more and repeat: still chaste, and only slightly longer, but enough that it’s only the swat from a furry paw that snaps him out of his reverie. “Sorry, Artemis,” he murmured, slightly miffed that their feline companion was objecting to the matter at hand.

“Sorry about this, girl- basket time for you, anyway,” Win lifted Artemis gently from the piano and placed her on her paws at their feet. The cat gave a disapproving meow before turning her back on them and stalking haughtily to her water bowl. Win shook her head with a little laugh, “sorry about that.”

Fred laughed too, “She might not like me so much next time we meet if she remembers this.” He was quite happy to assume there’ll be a next time now. Lots of next times, with any luck. A veritable army, if he gets his way, and he has a feeling he might, this time.

Win reached forward to gently brush a few strands of hair off his forehead and back into formation. “Thank you for coming tonight. Are you free next Saturday? We can sing a few more tunes,” she smiled at him, blue eyes alight with the hope of it. In truth, she didn’t want him to go now, but goodness knows what the neighbours would say if he stayed, even in the spare room.

He returned her smile, “No, thank you. And that would be wonderful. Shall I get some more lemonade for the occasion?” Sensing that now was the time to make a move towards home, even if it wouldn’t be his immediate choice, he stood, closing the piano fall board softly.  
She accompanied him to the door, passed him his coat and hat and when he was set, rose to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek “lemonade would be wonderful.”  


When Fred came in on Monday he found a sandwich on his desk, note attached, and he continued to find a different one every day that week, a trend that continued on into the weeks and months to come.


	4. Perils of the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred faces his most dangerous case yet while Win worries.

Several months later Win made her distracted way into work. The news from Germany on the wireless that morning had been worrisome, and, although the newspaper headlines assured that there was ‘no threat of war,’ she couldn’t help but feel less than optimistic.

Fred made his usual not-all-that-brief stop at Win’s desk as he came into work (a habit which his Inspector, if he had noticed over the past few months, had kindly tolerated) and noted her worried expression. Feeling her concern seep into his own mind automatically, he frowned and asked, “Everything all right?”

Win looked up at him, feeling immediately soothed by his reassuringly sturdy presence. “Yes, I’m alright, the news this morning just made me uneasy, I suppose.” She bent down to retrieve his sandwich (luncheon meat- Tuesday) from her bag.

“Ahh,” he nods, “yes, it was somewhat... unpromising, wasn’t it.” He’d been trying to fight off doubts in his own mind ever since he heard the latest himself, and he hated to see Win worrying over it too. Maybe it’ll all blow over. Or maybe not. “Thank you,” he grinned reassuringly as he took the sandwiches from her, “my best girl.” For the sake of it, he leant down to peck her on the cheek, hoping she wouldn’t feel he was overcompensating to make her feel better, but wanting to achieve that particular aim all the same.

Win smiles and blushed; she is about to respond when Fred’s Inspector came out and summoned him into his office. She didn’t see Fred for the rest of the day but overheard that there had been a raid with armed backup called for. She tried to get all the information she could, but no one seemed to have heard anything about her Fred.

When the bullet whistled past Fred’s ear time seemed to slow down; the yells of his fellow DC stretched into roars. The second shot, the one fired at the gunman, sent down the perpetrator and Fred’s head whipped around to see where it came from. It’s Sergeant...something, everything’s a blur and he thought this was probably the closest to an out-of-body experience he’d ever come. He turned his attention to his injured colleague - it was a leg wound, the shooter had a very poor aim, not helped by the paranoia produced by being surrounded by police. 

“All right, you’re all right,” he told the other constable, and he probably would be, but it didn’t stop Fred from having to bite back terror. This was the first time as a copper that he’d come quite so close to the life-and-death of the job, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t give to be safe in Win’s flat right at this moment. Still, that wasn’t an option, so he bore it, hoping that if she’d heard he was called out, she wasn’t too frightened.

Win was still haunting the station when the night duty desk sergeant clocked on, pacing the otherwise empty outer office and clutching a sheet of folded brown paper. When the officer came in, she immediately turned on her heel to face him, eyes wide “any news?” Not that he would have had any, having only just arrived on duty, but she had to know. She couldn’t go home until she knew Fred was safe.

His colleague stowed safely in the ambulance and other matters attended to - those which couldn’t wait ‘til morning - Fred drove his inspector back to his home. “You did well, lad,” Baxendale praised as he exited the car, and Fred nodded his thanks, though he didn’t feel much improved by the words. It was just a touch of shock, he thought, and come tomorrow it would be just a memory - after all, he signed up for this sort of thing when he decided to become a copper. Even so, he didn’t much feel like going home to his quiet bedsit, and instead opted for checking in at the station. The night shift should have just got in, and anyway someone had to file a report of the day’s proceedings - it might as well be him and it might as well be now.

Win was sitting in semi-darkness by this point, still clinging to the paper. She heard a figure approaching the desk, but at first presumed it’s just the sergeant on his rounds. When she heard Fred’s voice greeting the man in question, however, she was out of the chair before she had time to consider a next step, and he had an armful in seconds, without either of them really having had time to process anything.

It felt unimaginably good to have her so close, and Fred breathed her in like she was the first breath of air he’d had all day. Thoughts didn’t really register still; it was all a swimming mess, but now he could just about imagine things being all right in the near future, where before there’d been just confusion.

Win felt him shaking slightly as she held him and she pulled away to arm’s distance, hands still on his arms, to look at him. Pale, but unhurt- shock. “Come on, Fred. Sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea.” She took his hand and led him steadily, instructing him to sit in her seat before heading for the station’s small kitchen. She needed the task to ground herself, as well- she’d be no good to Fred if she got emotional in front of him so as kettle boiled she allowed herself a few tears of horror at what might have been and relief at what was, all trace of which were gone by the time the tea had brewed.

Fred stared dazedly at nothing, his mind having delightfully decided to show him a few pictures of recent events accompanied by a selection of the less comforting sounds, and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t rather have kept the spinning emptiness of pure shock a little longer. The sight of Win returning with the tea, though, was a tiny beacon of solace, and he did his best to summon a shaky smile as she presses it into his hands. “Thanks. Just the ticket.”

She poured a cup for herself and set cup and teapot down before perching against the desk, massaging his shoulders through his suit jacket. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here for you if you do want to talk about it. And I’m here if you don’t.” She kissed the top of his head, allowing herself a moment of selfishness as she breathed in the scent of him. “I’m so very glad you’re back.”

He closed his eyes for a second, refusing to imagine the alternatives. “So am I.” He was able to relax a little under her touch, breathing much more easily. “It was - well. There was an incident...Dalton was hit, but he’s...he’ll make it. I just happened to see, that’s all.” He couldn’t conceive of telling her about it in any more detail, not yet, and not only because he didn’t want to give her cause for undue concern the next time he was called out. “Don’t you worry about me.”

She squeezed his shoulders a little more firmly, nowhere near enough to hurt, but a very physical reminder of her presence. “You honestly think telling me that will stop me, Fred Thursday?” She removed herself from the desk to move around in front of him, taking the half empty tea cup away from him before he could spill the lukewarm remainder, and crouched in front of him. “You do a difficult and dangerous job and I’m so proud to be stepping out with you, Fred, but I can’t not worry. You’re my sweetheart, and you’re irreplaceable.”

He gave her a wry smile. He hadn’t really expected that to work, but the phrase had produced itself nevertheless. “As are you.” he stated simply. “And I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you waited here...I needed this.” He gestured at the tea, but had a feeling they both knew what he really meant by that. “I promise, as long as it’s ever in my power, I’ll come back safe to you.” He considered this. “As promises go it’s not a very good one, because it won’t very often be in my power, but a promise all the same.”

Win took hold of Fred’s hand again. “Come back to my flat tonight, Fred. Never mind the neighbours. The spare room’s all made up, you shouldn’t be alone. Besides, Artemis has missed you.”

He squeezed her hand lightly and considered refusing with the stiff politeness of a gentleman, but then his mind flitted back to the sound of the gunshots and Dalton’s face and he suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of going home alone. Win was, as she made quite the habit of being, quite right. “Well we can’t have that,” he said softly. “All right. Thank you, Win, really, you are a marvel.”  


She bent forward and pressed her nose against his for a moment before pulling back reluctantly “come on. Sausages and mash for dinner, I think. I’ll even make you a sausage sandwich for tomorrow.” She kissed his forehead and rose, offering her hand.

“You really are too good to me,” he said, chuckling, and taking her hand. He realised he was clasping it a little tightly, and tried to revert back to the normal, casual grip, but there was still just about enough tension in his body to keep him wanting to hold on tight. Pausing only to collect their things - the report could wait after all, the DI hadn’t even mentioned it and he was not really in the mood for going above and beyond tonight – they were soon on their way.


	5. Tea and Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter for a few days, but there will be more on the way soon... lots more. This beast is currently 60,000 and counting!

By the time they got home, Thursday was shaking a little more, tiredness having joined the shock. 

Win took his coat and led him, shoes still on, to the sofa. She then gently removed them for him and poured him a brandy, passing it to him without comment. He was not overly proud, her Fred, but he was a man still and a very capable one. She didn’t want to make him feel less than he is just because he was suffering from the effects of a dreadful day. “I’ll start the dinner. Oh look who’s come to join you.” Artemis bounced up to join him and curled up beside him, purring soothingly having sensed his distress.

Fred sipped at the brandy half-heartedly, hating every tremor in the hand holding it, willing it to stop but understanding, on some level at least, that it wouldn’t. At least not through sheer force of will. When Artemis appeared he was horrified at the sudden urge to sob outright, but of course, he averted it. There was something about the way even the little furry animal could see he was struggling that made him feel almost as pathetic as he must look, so he coughed lightly and said, “Hello, Artie. Good girl.” 

She nuzzled in to him, and he enjoyed the little bit of extra warmth. Her purring, too, was extraordinarily soothing. He made a mental note never to be without a cat, or at least the knowledge of where to find a cat. Preferably this cat. He half-smiled at himself. He really was going soft.

Win kept the kitchen door wide open so that she could hear if Fred needed anything. She seasoned the sausages just as he liked them and prepared some salmon for Artemis as a special treat; she had been doing a great job with Fred. She sung to herself softly as she cooked, as was her wont. The smells drifted through from the kitchen, filling the flat. She knew that Fred wouldn’t manage much, so she was sure not to overfill his plate. There were plenty of leftovers should he find his appetite. 

Everything connected to the shooting seemed a little further away now, not gone but nudged into the background where he could almost ignore it - especially since the pleasant smell of Win’s cookery joined Artemis’s purrs and the soft glow of summer’s late evening light in the veritable banquet of the senses he’s currently attending. He still felt like he was getting more exhausted rather than less as the tiredness caught up with him, but this was a vast improvement to how he was feeling an hour before. He heard the clink of the gravy boat being set down, a sound he had learnt to recognise. Good old Win, he thought. She really could be relied upon in any situation.

Still in her apron, Win carried the food through to the dining room and called through to Fred. Artemis followed him in, sensing that his current relative calm remained by a thread. She was very fond of her newly appointed ‘big human’ and she knew her smaller human would be far less happy without him. She likes her humans happy, it results in salmon.

Happy to be accompanied by the cat, Fred made his way to the dining room and surveyed the spread. His Win was, without a doubt, second only to his mother in the cooking department (and even that judgement was made more out of respect than anything else), and he was almost overwhelmed by how inviting it looked. Especially, he thought, after the day he’d had. Artemis seemed to be waiting for something, and issued a slightly piercing meow of reminder. Sure enough, some salmon was rapidly produced. Fred chuckled, and pulled out his seat.

Win gave Artemis a brief stroke as she ate from her bowl before joining Fred at the table. Usually pre-mealtime grace for her was perfunctory and habitual, a few words drilled into her from childhood, but today she thanked God not just for the food but also for Fred and they both lingered in silent contemplation for several moments before the ‘Amens’.

In the silence Fred thought of other homes which may be a little emptier that night, and wordlessly asked that the families who’d lost loved ones, ones who’ve not been as lucky as he was, were given some comfort. When he raises his head, he answered Win’s glance with a smile. 

Win reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing gently before releasing him. “I hope you like the sausages, I think I’ve just about mastered your seasoning preferences but we shall see.” She gave him a smile before starting on her own plate “no doubt a certain feline someone will be hassling for scraps as soon as she’s finished her salmon. It’s a wonder she’s not as big as a house with the amount she eats.”

Fred’s first mouthful is satisfying proof that she had, indeed, mastered his preferences. “Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, “This is the stuff. I can’t say I blame Artemis for wanting to try it, she’s spoilt, living with your cooking!” He grinned at her. 

Win chuckled, “flatterer. There’s still some carrot cake left over from the weekend as well.” She added a little more gravy to her plate, having been less enthusiastic with the serving of her own than she had been with Fred’s. Sure enough, before long Artemis was with them, rubbing herself against Fred’s legs and mewing.

“I speak only the truth,” he said, innocently. “Hello Artemis, what could you possibly require?” His feline friend meowed her reply. “Oh, is that right? Then I shall be sure to save you some.” True to his word, he scraped a small potion to the side of his plate to give to her soon. Though he was still tired, he was pleased to note that he was not so tense anymore. Leave it to Artemis and her smaller human to sort that. 

Artemis sat on Fred’s foot to wait and Win shook her head in fond amusement “she’s got us both under her paw.” She was pleased to see that Fred had more colour in his cheeks and seemed to have found his appetite. 

“That’s what you get for naming her after a goddess,” Fred said, mock-seriously. “Probably thinks we’re only here to do her bidding.” He was fine with that for now. The last orders he’d followed....but he made a swift exit from that train of thought. 

Artemis nuzzled his leg a few times before settling down at his feet rather than on them to await her treat. Win offered him another helping.

Fred hesitated - offending her being the last thing he wanted but not quite up to a whole new plateful. “A little would be lovely.” He took the opportunity while she was gone to sneak some of Artemis’s quota under the table. The cat purred at him approvingly and nuzzled him again. 

Artemis munched, licking her lips and paw in satisfaction. Win didn’t give him a huge amount more, just enough so she could be sure he was unlikely to be awakened by hunger in the night.

“That,” he says as he finished the last of it, “was excellent. My compliments to the chef,” he added with a grin as he stood and picked up his plate to take into the kitchen. “Would the kitchen staff care for some assistance as a token of my thanks?” He might have been tired, but he felt he should at least try to help out, especially as his company was somewhat thrust upon her that night (not that she’d ever given him the slightest hint that it wouldn’t have been welcome at any time, naturally). 

Win smiled and followed him through to the kitchen “you wash, I’ll dry” and she passed him an apron. Artemis followed and perched on a cabinet, watching them.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for Fred, up to the elbows in soapy water, to start trying to flick bubbles in Win’s direction. He had a short speech planned for if he was reproached for this behaviour - it involved repetition of the words “long, hard day” and puppy eyes - but he hoped he wouldn’t need it. 

Win quirked an eyebrow and flicked him back. “Don’t start something you can’t finish” she joked, flicking him again with a grin. Artemis watched them with her head cocked. She’d never understand humans; they were amusing, though, so she supposed she’d better keep them.

A few exchanges and a fair amount of clearing up later, they were both damper than is reasonable and as a final retort, Fred kissed her on the nose, and said, “I think our work here is done.” He surveyed the kitchen - it looked rather pristine if he did say so himself, the most untidy things in the room being the two of them (Artemis had remained unblemished by their warfare, because she was far above such silliness and had remained an amused but sceptical spectator). 

Win undid Fred’s apron for him and threw it nonchalantly in the general direction of the door hook; unfortunately, rather than landing there gracefully, it instead missed and ended up in a heap on the floor. She laughed and allowed Fred to pull her close, head tilted and smiling up at him “my Fred.” She returned the kiss her gave her, hands moving to card through his hair. He was almost as fond of having his hair stroked as Artemis was, and Win couldn’t say she minded at all- she loved Fred’s hair.

“And only yours,” he said softly, before they eased apart. He followed her back to the sitting room and it’s as if the sight of the lounge chair was enough to remind his knees of their earlier weakness; he all but collapsed on to it, pleased to have her beside him, and slipped an arm around her comfortably.

Win curled up with him, partly on his lap, and peppered his cheeks and lips with sweet kisses. Eventually she pulled back slightly to cup his cheek and look into his eyes “how are you feeling, darling Fred?” Her eyes were soft with concern and she stroked a thumb down the side of his face.

He gave her a half-smile, not really wanting to spoil the moment with the most truthful of words, but going for the fairly honest, “Tired. A bit washed out. Keep thinking there’s something more I could have done, but there wasn’t, really. And you’ve been an angel,” he brought his own hand up to stroke against hers, “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Winifred Kelly.”

Win stroked his hair back from his forehead “I feel the same. Bed time, I think, you’ll feel better after a good long rest, and I’m sure Artemis will be more than willing to act as a furry throw.” She kissed him again, more deeply than before until eventually extricating herself and rising to her feet, offering Fred a hand. 

Bed: what a blessed word. Win showed Fred into the spare room and he couldn’t remember the last time clean sheets and a soft pillow looked quite so heavenly. He kissed her goodnight, intense with gratitude and - maybe it’s longing, but they both know where they stood on that. The time, he hoped, would come, when they were man and wife. 

For now, there was really nothing he wanted more than to get into the spare bed and sleep ‘til his muscles forget to stiffen at every sudden noise, ‘til his mind had filed everything away in box where it wouldn’t bother him until it could be useful. He knew that day wouldn’t be his last violent showdown, but at least he will never, ever have to suffer through the dreaded ‘First One’ again. And even that night had ended more beautifully than he could have hoped. “I love you, you know,” he told Win with a smile. 

Win coloured a little at his words, suddenly bashful but clearly pleased to hear them, and wrapped her arms around him for a final kiss “and I love you.” She stroked her fingers through his hair “if you need anything in the night, if you have an even vaguely unsettling dream, anything, then please wake me. Promise me you will.”

He hadn’t even thought about that, and suddenly hoped against hope that it didn’t occur. “If you insist,” he said. “Thank you. Should be all right, I’m a heavy sleeper.” One last peck on the cheek. “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, I hope. But if it’s otherwise please come and wake me- I understand,” she kissed his cheek once more and left him to it. Artemis, on the other hand, bounced up onto the bed, circled and settled, curled nose to tail.

Fred stripped down to his vest and underclothes, which would have to do in the absence of pyjamas, and switched off the lamp before slipping under the covers. Artemis shifted herself to accommodate his feet and settled into a gentle purr. “Night, Artemis,” her Big Human whispered into the darkness before waiting for sleep to overcome him. 

Win fetched herself a glass of water and went to bed, leaving the hall light on so that if Fred woke he wouldn’t be too disorientated in the unfamiliar surroundings of her flat. She also left her bedroom door open for any cats- or Freds- to enter at will.

Fred’s subconscious was kind enough to give him a few hours of unbroken sleep before it hinted in any nightmarish direction; and when it did slide down that path, there were no fitful struggles with a pillow-turned-opponent, or feverish, primadonna yells: just wide eyes and racing heart and a forehead drenched with sweat, despite the fact that his throat was painfully dry. 

Fred sat up, heart still thumping, trying to stabilise. He couldn’t bring himself to wake Win, not at that hour (whatever hour it was), and, thinking of the promise she’d made him agree to, decided that he’d be fine if he could just get a drink of water and get back to sleep. What the eye doesn’t see, after all. As quietly as is humanly possible, he made his way toward the bathroom, thinking bitterly that stealth would be much easier to achieve if he wasn’t shaking quite so much. 

Artemis followed him out, sticking close and looking up at him with what might have been concern (or a request for food since he was in the kitchen anyway).

The water slid, chilling but wonderful, down his throat. Fred felt Artemis pressing herself against his leg and looked down at her, whispering, “all right, puss, back to sleep now.” Just the return journey to manage without disturbing Win - he’d be fine. He could see her sleeping from her open doorway - how very Win to have left it so - and lingered just for a second, watching her, before a nudge from Artemis propelled him gently back toward the spare room. 

Artemis, deciding Big Human was useless at looking after himself jumped on Win, butting against her lightly to wake her. Win woke, confused for a moment- “Artie?” She sat up slightly “what’s up? Fred?”

Drat. He’d had been so near to getting away with it. “Just needed a drink of water,” Fred said, all innocence, “No need to stir yourself.” He stepped back into the spare room. 

Win sighed inwardly and rose, pulling on her dressing gown and going to Fred’s room, knocking softly on the door. Artemis sat at her feet.

Fred sighed too, outwardly, and came to the door. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he told her, “I’m fine, honestly. You can go back to sleep.” 

Win entered regardless and went to Fred’s bedside “do you trust me?”

He looked at her, startled at the question, “Of course I do.”

“Then get into bed.” He got in, clearly perplexed, and she removed her dressing gown and slid in with him, cuddling close to his broad chest. Artemis bounced up to, satisfied. About time they shared a basket. 

Fred wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he was fairly certain it was the best thing that had happened in what felt like a long time. His eyes closed unbidden, and he listened to the sounds of their breathing; soft and regular now, even his. Perhaps this was no guarantee of a peaceful sleep, but it surely couldn’t make his chances worse. 

Win snuggled down and fell asleep quickly- Fred makes an extremely comfortable pillow. Artemis seemed to share this view as she too was out like a light on top of him.


	6. Better in the Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short bridge chapter, this one. More on the way soon!

The next time Fred woke, it was because light is beginning to creep through the gap in the curtains. For a moment he was confused by the bed’s extra occupants - and then it all trickled back to him and he could only smile down at Win’s hair and reach out a hand to the already-wakeful Artemis, who sat up and nuzzled it gently. He could see the clock on the chest of drawers - not so late as to make it imperative to get up straight away, but still not early enough to allow him to stay right here forever, which was a shame. Still. While it lasted...

Win seemed to sense a change in the atmosphere of the room and began to stir, snuggling closer still as she does so, almost seeming to want to burrow inside Fred’s chest. Artemis decided it was time to wander pointedly in the direction of her food bowl, bouncing down and stretching.

Fred watched the cat go, and drew his outer arm around the snuggling form of Win, as if to ensure her continued presence. A distant mewing begins, Artemis having realised that neither of her humans had picked up on her subtle hint. Fred felt momentarily sorry for her, but when it was a choice between leaving Win - beautiful, patient, selfless Win- to sleep, and placating the cat, Win... won. At least while Artemis’s protestations are faint enough from the next room not to wake her themselves.

Not long after, Win’s eyelids fluttered and she found herself in her spare room with Fred. She gave a sleepy but very pleased smile “not a dream. What a wonderful way to wake up” she yawned a little and then kissed him, still snuggling. “Did you manage to get any more sleep?” Now that she was more alert she studied him worriedly for signs of strain.

He was pleased to be able to give her a smile of genuine contentment. “Yes, I was out like a light. You sleep all right?” 

Win nodded and kissed him again, lazily, until she heard the pointed mews. “Ah, Artie.”

“Demanding little thing, isn’t she?” Fred said fondly. “Not that I’m one to talk, shall we go and appease our goddess?”

After giving him one last lingering kiss, Win agreed and slid out of bed and into her dressing gown. “And what would you like for breakfast? I have bacon, eggs, bread, jam...”

He followed her. “Well, if there’s bacon going, that would be lovely.” 

“I’m going to make myself an omelette- would you like one with bacon?” She prepared Artemis’s breakfast first, though or the cat would never forgive her. It struck her then how very domestic this scene was, and she rested a hand on Fred’s chest (he had his shirt on now but not yet buttoned) “I could really get used to this.”

He pulled her in to kiss her lightly. “That makes two of us.” One day. One day they would. He knew for sure by now, perhaps he had for a while. He’d have to put some money by, make a day of it, slip an extra little box into a picnic hamper, perhaps. Come the summer. Suddenly he realised he was staring a little and shook himself from his train of thought. He hadn’t even answered her question. “Omelette! Sounds perfect. Yes, please.” 

Win gave him a curious look but didn’t ask what had distracted him “one bacon omelette coming up, though I’ve the impression Artie won’t be letting you eat it alone I’m afraid.”

Fred chuckled as, true to form, the small feline finished her own breakfast and started watching Win’s preparations interestedly. “Oh, we’ll manage,” he said cheerfully. 

Suitably fed, the two of them retreated to their rooms to get ready for work. Win made their sandwiches (sausage with the leftovers) and checked that Artemis had enough water before they left. They didn’t quite hold hands as they walked, but stood very close, occasionally chatting but more frequently enjoying the quiet companionship.

“Not only stepping out but stepping in, eh, Freddie?” One of the detective sergeants calls, lingering at the entrance of the station and seeing them approach. Fred rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Just getting some exercise, Sanders, a morning walk’d do you wonders, you should try it.” 

Win smiled at him softly and headed to her desk. She didn’t lose the smile all day.


	7. Fuzzy 'Round the Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Win tends to a concussed Fred who tries his best to be a patient patient

Several months later, a spring evening found Win tending to a nasty gash and bump on Fred’s head. The man in question had insisted on not going to hospital after being knocked out on a case, but his Inspector had passed a distinctly wobbly- though trying to hide it- young man over to his girl with the instruction that she take good care of him and call for a doctor at once if needed.

Fred tried his best not to hiss with pain as she cleaned the wound, aware that she was being as gentle as was humanly possible. The instinct to flinch away was almost overwhelming, though that would be a bad idea in itself, since any sudden movements were sure to send him reeling. He’d only just been able to walk from the Inspector’s car to the flat, every step a gamble between balance and falling. 

Win winced for him. “I’m so sorry! I’m nearly done. There was some grit in the cut and I don’t want it getting infected.” She stopped for the moment, though, setting the cloth down to help Fred to sip some water and cupping his cheek on the uninjured side, stroking gently with her thumb and gazing into his slightly dazed eyes, hazy with pain and slight concussion. “My brave love. You saved that little girl- everyone’s so proud of you.” 

So close up, she was blurred, his eyes unable to refocus. When he spoke, the words were small, as though barely uttered. “No more than....anybody would have done.” Or tried to do, at the very least. He didn’t want to think about how close he’d come to not managing it after all. 

Win continued to stroke his cheek, looking at him in concern. “How are you feeling? Honestly?”

He searched for words. They were uncharacteristically difficult to come by, and annoyingly they shifted farther away the harder he tried. “A bit... not here.” is all he could come up with in the end. “But I’ll be fine.” This last, more quickly, was on reflex more than thought. Mustn’t worry Win, his wavering mind reminded him, from somewhere far away. Mustn’t upset Win. 

Win stroked his hair away from his forehead lightly, “I won’t make you go to hospital, but I will telephone my doctor and see if he can come and have a look at you.”

Fred looked at her beseechingly. “Must you?” He rather detested doctors. Poking and prying and asking for details he would like to sleep away the memory of, thanks very much. And what if, despite what Win thought, the doctor said he had to go to hospital? That wouldn’t do. “Can’t we leave it a little while, see if I improve?” 

Win looked uncertain “alright, but please tell me if you feel worse at any point- head injuries can be very serious.” She kissed him gently and finished tending to his head “would you like some tea?”

“Please.” Fred managed a smile, but it didn’t feel as forced as it might have done. At least if he had to feel like this, dazed and not-quite-present, it was here with Win, not alone at home or under the beady eye of an unfamiliar medico. Small mercies. 

Win got the tea and some aspirin for Fred and then returned to the living room. Artemis, who had been asleep on Win’s bed, padded in to investigate and bounced up beside her Big Human, nosing him to make him more alert.

He was pleased to see her; Artemis’s furry presence was another reminder that this was safety, here and now. His girl on one side and their purring companion on his other, Fred found that the throbbing in his head could be ignored until it rose just above that crucial dividing line between ‘very bad’ and merely ‘bad’. He began to raise his teacup to his lips, but abandoned the idea when it became clear his still-shaky fingers weren’t up to the task yet, and hoped Win didn’t notice him setting it back down. 

Win curled up next to him, her much smaller hand atop his. “Violet’s engaged to be married, did you hear? To her builder sweetheart. They’re hoping for a spring wedding. She said we’re invited.” She smiled at him softly, loving that people saw them as a unit.

Fred smiled, pleased. “Ah. That’s nice of her, I’ll have to remember to say congratulations next time I see her.” He liked Violet; she was a good friend to Win, and he hoped she’d be very happy. Of course, there was an elephant edging very slightly into the room at this juncture. A number of their friends had got engaged over the past few months, and Fred had been debating over a multitude of different ways he might ask his own Very Important Question. He hoped he wasn’t concussed enough to do anything silly, like ask it now when his head was all over the shop. He wanted it to be special; he just wasn’t quite sure how to orchestrate it. One day it would fall into place, he decided. 

“Now, what’s it to be for dinner?” She rose to her feet, “I was thinking shepherd’s pie, but are you up to it? I could make something lighter if you’re not.” She eyed him critically. Part of her wanted nothing more than to feed him up- several tough cases in a row has left him looking thinner and more worn than he had. She didn’t think she had imagined the deepening of the worry lines on his forehead. On the other hand, she didn’t want to force feed the poor man when he was feeling under the weather.

“I think... I might be able to manage some shepherd’s pie,” he said, after a moment’s consideration. The thought of food wasn’t quite as appealing on this particular evening as it was most days, but then it was to be Win’s cooking. He had long since discovered that Win’s cooking, regardless of other circumstances, was always exquisite. 

With a smile, Win bent over to kiss him softly. They kissed and touched frequently, curled up in bed together, even, but had still managed not to end up compromised. Sometimes Win just wanted to throw caution- and social mores- to the wind; they were as good as married, in all the ways that truly mattered, anyway- why shouldn’t they be allowed to express their love with their bodies? It wouldn’t be harming anyone, after all... She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts; it wasn’t as if Fred was in any fit state in any case, and it was selfish of her to consider her desire for him at such a time. “Shepherd’s pie it is. Call me if you need anything at all,” after a gentle kiss to the top of Fred’s head she moved into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Fred watched her go, her kiss still warm on the top of his head, like a precious piece of her that was his to keep. His hand fell into a gentle rhythm, stroking Artemis’s head while she purred, and he pondered on nothing in particular. Keeping his mind on anything was still an effort, and it was quite nice to just...sit.

Artemis nuzzled into his hand, enjoying her strokes as always. Win turned the wireless on low as she cooked, singing along to a song she knew well, hips swaying slightly in time.

The faint sounds of her singing carried through to Fred, the song familiar but not one he knew by heart. His mind flicked back to his first visit to the flat, not a week after his original meeting with Win, the day he’d heard her singing for the first time. In fact, it was approaching the first anniversary of that date, as far as he could remember. He’d have to check it later, armed with a calendar and a clear head, but the next weekend must surely mark a year. He’d have to do something special, he decided. Make up for causing her a fair amount of trouble and worry over the twelve months, even though she was endlessly understanding, and even admiring, of him. 

Pie in oven, Win set Artemis’s new food dish (a Christmas gift to her from Fred) down and headed back to sit with Fred. “Are you feeling any better, love?” Her eyes were soft with concern.

“Actually, yes,” Fred said honestly. “I think an early night might still be in order....but better.” 

Win beamed and cuddled close, stroking his hair as she knew he liked. Artemis came back to sit on them when her food had been eaten. 

“Thank you for patching me up, love,” Fred said quietly. He was acutely aware, sometimes, of how much he had to be thankful for, in comparison with how much he provided for her. “I don’t think I tell you enough how wonderful you are.” His diction, though vastly improved since he had returned, was still a bit slurred. But though it might have been the concussion making him actually say the words, that didn’t make them any less true. 

She gave him a gentle kiss “you don’t need to tell me. I do this because I love you, it’s not a chore. You’re a good man, Fred Thursday, one of the best.” 

He returned the kiss, soft and slow and adoring. “I love you, too.” 

Win kissed him again, smiling against his lips, before pulling away reluctantly, “I’ll just go and check on the pie.”

Said pie, naturally, proved incomparably delicious, though Fred managed only a small helping. It perhaps wasn’t wise to overfeed a concussion, however slight, no matter how tempting the prospect. He chuckled at Artemis’s careful eyeing of the leftovers, perched on the dresser near to the dining table. “I’m not sure who’s a bigger fan of your cooking, Win, me or Artie.”

“Artie’s appreciation is hardly flattering as it’s all she’s ever known. Yours is a lot more so, thank you.” She poured them both some lemonade- it seemed to have become ‘their drink’- and offered Artemis a little food on a side plate.

Sipping it, Fred was again reminded of his first meal at Win’s. “Next Saturday,” he said, casual as could be, “I thought we could go on a little excursion. You’re not busy, are you?” He didn’t like to assume, but he couldn’t remember the last weekend they’d spent apart, with the exception of a couple of visits to her father and brothers, and the odd case that had sent him farther afield.

“That sounds lovely! Hopefully the weather will pick up by then, but if not I’m sure we can wrap up warm and make the most of it. It’ll be good to finally be able to go out and about again now that the snow and ice are finally clearing up.” Win’s enthusiasm was plain and infectious, she really did look delighted at the prospect of a trip out with Fred. 

Their summer had been glorious- filled with trips to the seaside, sun drenched strolls, ice creams melting in sticky fingers and foiling Artemis’s attempts to stowaway in the picnic hamper. However, their excursions of late had been limited by the weather, and previously by an irritating, lingering cough that Win had picked up at the end of autumn and been unable to shift for some time.

Fred beamed. “Won’t it just.” He’d held off suggesting outdoor activities until he’d been sure her cough had gone, and it would be nice to get back to them, even if it was just for a walk (and an important conversation, supposing he didn’t lose his courage over the next few days). He frowned suddenly, “I might just go and get the aspirin from the other room.” His first dose must be wearing off a bit, because his headache was returning. Nothing too alarming. Just a bit more thumping than before.

Win squeezed his hand. “I’ll get it; just have some small sips of lemonade- keep hydrated- I’ll be right back,” she headed swiftly into the other room to hunt the medicine. Artemis, having finished her leftovers, had moved to sit on Fred’s feet.

The thought that the cat could sense his infirmity and had taken such an action was amusing enough to distract him somewhat until Win returned, at which point he thanked her and took two of the pills promptly. “That should do it.”

With a kiss to the top of Fred’s head in passing, Win began to take the plates through to the kitchen, starting to clean up. Artemis stayed firmly planted, seemingly not wanting Fred to move anywhere.

Fred, as it happened, did not object to that. In an ideal world, he’d be lying down on something soft, but since to make that happen he’d have to walk, he decided he was just as well off sitting where he was.

Artemis, bored of feet, moved on to explore lap, curling up, a furry, purring hot water bottle. Win did the dishes as swiftly as she could and then returned to them.

“That was quick,” Fred remarked, and smiled at her. The pills hadn’t yet taken full effect but Artemis’s affection was a fairly good antidote in itself, being a very good distraction from one’s head feeling like it had smashed into a broken doorframe not too long ago. Not an unexpected sensation, given that his had.

“I do my best,” she smiled, drying her hands on a tea towel. “Shall we cuddle in bed? I doubt I’ll be too popular before long with the instruction that I wake you regularly, but for now we might as well be content.”

“I have seldom heard a better suggestion,” he replied. “I’ll try not to be too disagreeable when you wake me. But my apologies in advance.” He stood, very slowly, and reached out to her. “We’d probably better walk together, in case...one of us happens to fall.” He managed a grin. “It’ll probably be me.”

She supported her Fred, steadying him with surprising strength given their size difference. There was no way she would let him fall as she directed him steadily to bed. “You were so very brave, truly- everyone was quite blown away, my love.”

He ignored the instinct to shake his head dismissively on the grounds that it would hurt. “Just doing my duty. I couldn’t have left the poor child in that house. No man could have walked away from that.”

“Many did, though,” settling him down gently on the bed, she paused to kiss him softly. “It scares me, sometimes, what you do... It scares me to hear when you’re in danger, and I hate seeing you hurt or worn down by a case, but I couldn’t be more proud to be stepping out with you, Fred, honestly.” Knowing he wasn’t yet quite coordinated enough to do it himself, she gently began to remove his work clothes, careful of his other bruises and scrapes, stripping him down to his underclothes with all the gentle proficiency of a nurse but with lingering touches that were her own.

“It would be much harder,” he said quietly, “if I didn’t have you to come home to.” Through every scrape and chase and fire, the thought of her kept him floating on, nothing quite so dark that it obscured his path back to her. “I’ll try and stay worthy of your esteem, my darling, every day.”

She smiled at him and rested her hand gently on the top of his head. Fred closed his eyes- it shouldn’t have felt like benediction, and yet… After a few moments she raised her hand again. “I’ll be right back.” She headed off briefly, returning wearing her nightdress. Artemis had by this time curled up on top of Fred.

Fred lifted up the blankets to usher Win into her usual place, snuggled into his side. Artemis looked at him reproachfully as his movement unbalanced her slightly, but apparently decided to forgive him this once. He was still a little wobbly after all.

Win snuggled close, kissing his cheek and stroking a hand down his chest. “I love you, Fred Thursday.”

His eyes were already closed when he whispered back, “I love you, too.”


	8. Positive Feedback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast in bed brings unexpected results

That night Win had woken Fred regularly to make sure he was alright, frequently encouraging him to take sips of water. As a result, neither of them slept well.

Fred did his best to stay amiable, though he knew that he had a tendency to grumble when woken suddenly. It helped that Win was so gentle and patient, easing him into consciousness despite her own tiredness. “I ‘uv you s’uch,” he mumbled sluggishly at one point as he settled back down after sipping the water. He wasn’t even awake to hear if she replied. 

The next morning broke to Win draped over her Fred like a throw, snuffling into his chest. Artemis was also curled up close to her ‘Big Human’, sleeping soundly.

Fred opened his eyes blearily, and found the world he woke up in to be exactly to his liking. He tested his head by moving his neck very slightly. No immediate stabbing pain, so that was a positive. He was keenly aware of the injury still, but it wasn’t overwhelming. He wondered if Win would let him go into work, particularly as she’d be only a few feet away the whole time.

Artemis woke with a yawn and, seeing that Fred had his eyes open, headed up the bed to greet him. Win kept close, face entirely peaceful at rest.

Fred stretched out a hand to stroke Artie, whispering “good morning,” as quietly as he could.

Artemis tilted her head into his palm, giving him a nuzzle and a purr. It’s good for humans to have positive feedback when they’re being well behaved. Win began to stir herself, murmuring Fred’s name.

Fred smiled, kissing her forehead when she surfaced. “Good morning, my sweet.”

Win smiled up at him sleepily and kissed his lips “good morning. How’s your head feeling?

“Not too bad,” he said, “I had a very good nurse looking after me.”

Win kissed him deeply, moaning slightly into his mouth. She was always a lot less restrained in the pre-tea mornings.

The kiss was only broken when Artemis walking all the way up Fred’s chest to meow in their faces. “I have a feeling someone is hungry,” he said, chuckling.

“I’ll feed her and be right back, don’t go anywhere,” she kissed him once more and rose, picking up her feline mistress as en route.

Despite the instruction, Fred thought he’d see how sitting up went. It was not a pleasant experience. His headache suddenly rushed to catch up with him and he gritted his teeth ‘til it was bearable again, then lay back down slowly. Blasted head injuries. It was going to take a gradual easing back into activity.

Win returned a little while later with a breakfast tray for Fred. Tea, toast, a boiled egg and orange juice along with a side of painkillers. She tutted slightly when she saw that he had moved, but helped him to get settled, sat up against the headboard, positioning the tray on his lap.

Fred hardly knew where to start, but in the end went for the painkillers. “Are you dining with me?” he asked Win, who was currently sans tray.

“I am indeed.” Win headed out again and returned with an egg of her own, snuggling back into bed with Fred, her matching tray knocking lightly against his. “Look at us, an old married couple,” she joked.

He chuckled. “Somewhat ahead of our time.” The next three seconds were the longest he had ever lived through, and yet when he started speaking again it still didn’t feel like his brain had had a chance to catch up. “And you’d have to say yes, first...”

Win’s head shot to face Fred’s so swiftly it’s a wonder she didn’t do herself an injury; the tray nearly fell from her lap but she paid it no mind. “Fred...?” she held her breath, hardly daring to hope that he was asking.

He held her gaze. No going back. Looked deep in her eyes, knowing he’d never get a chance to repeat this moment, trying to immerse himself fully in it. He took one of her hands in his, lingered, and then, “Winifred Kelly. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

In an extremely uncharacteristic move that would have horrified her parents and later delight her cat as she realised that food was on the floor for the taking, Win swept aside the trays and practically pounced into Fred’s arms with a squeak of joy.

The rush of happiness was immediate, seraphic. He held her tightly and then, between kisses, managed to murmur, “I’m going to assume the answer is yes.”

“Yes! A thousand times yes,” she nuzzled and kissed him, clinging on tightly.

“Sorry there’s not a ring,” he said, not sounding sorry in the slightest because that belonged to a whole spectrum of emotions he wasn’t even capable of in that moment. “I was going to try and be romantic, take you out next weekend and prepare some kind of a speech...” He kissed her again, “but I think I like it better like this.”

Win nodded enthusiastically “this is us, right here.” She looked at him with bright eyes, “we don’t need fancy outings, flowery speeches and candlelight, all we’ll ever need is this.”

He stroked hair from her forehead, kept his hand there, kissed her again. “Always,” he agreed, emphatically. “I love you, wife-to-be.”


	9. Change in the Air

It was September 1939.

Thoughts washed over Fred in a torrent, and the more he tried to force himself to concentrate on the here and now, the more he was swallowed by dread; what was here and now might not be forever, after all. He spun conversation out of the air, telling Win about the recent spate of shopliftings he’d been investigating as he held her, pretending it was all that occupied his mind.

Win clutched his hand, replying when the conversation prompted it but clearly tense in mind and body. She would never dream of telling him how badly she wanted him to stay with her, to stay safe; she knew he was an honourable and brave man and had no desire to make him feel guilty for an admirable decision, but still she clung.

Patriotism, they called it, commended it in men his age and younger, older, willing to risk it all to defend the cobbled streets, the churches and steeples, the hills and the trees and rivers that were England. Fred, an Englishman through to the bone, thought of none of these things. But if him going off to fight would mean his precious Win could walk the streets safely and grow old in a world at peace, he’d do it. For England, yes. But also for Win. “And that’s about all we know for now,” he rounded off his story vaguely. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you.” If he said it every day from now until he left, how many times would that be? Not enough, most likely.

Curled close, Win tilted her head to claim his lips. “I love you too.” Artemis, sensing something was up but not knowing what it was or how to fix it, paced anxiously.

Fred patted his knee and she accepted the invitation, bounding up and mewing at them both in confused sympathy. “All right, Artie,” said Fred, stroking her head. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

Win tickled Artemis’s ears before resting her hand on Fred’s shirt, over his heart. “Fred... could we... I know it’s early... we won’t have to stay there... I’ll make dinner soon, but...” she took a breath. “Could we go to bed? I... I just want to hold you.”

“Of course,” he whispered, and took her hand. Artemis hopped down and headed off to inspect her food bowl, and the two of them headed to the bedroom. Fred thought bitterly of the distant shores that would take him from her, and hated feeling responsible for the pain in her voice, even though he knew she understood his decision. If there was any other way, Win....he didn’t complete the thought.

Sliding off some of her layers, Win slid under the covers and awaited Fred. She wanted to be as close to him as possible, for him to know how much he was loved and that no matter how far away he might be, she would always be with him.

He followed suit, drinking her in with every sense as they pressed close to one another. It was a fool’s errand to try and memorise every atom of her, someone as wonderful and complex and pure as her, but he tried anyway. He would need the memory sorely later on.

After an interlude of passionate kisses and touching, Win lay sprawled out over her Fred, breathing heavily and guiltily wishing for more. But no, not yet, she had to give Fred something to come back for.

The promise of being able to complete what they’d started today would burn brightly in him for as long as it needed to, Fred thought as they lay there. For as long as it took to bring them back together. He tried to pull his mind away from the thought; it wasn’t as though he was leaving tomorrow. It could be weeks, months. And yet he could still feel it pressing in on him from all angles, the silent third occupant of the room, observing them, biding its time.

Fortunately, there was also a not-so-silent fourth occupant in the room, and one not keen on biding. Artemis bounced up on the bed, insisting on joining in with the cuddles.

Fred couldn’t help but laugh despite his thoughts, letting Artemis sit in the crook of his arm for a while until she decided this was not sufficiently in the middle of things and tried to wedge herself between them. “There are three parties in this engagement,” he commented.

Win chuckled “she’s good practise for children.” Draped over Fred, she stroked back his hair and kissed his forehead. “Do you want children, love? We’ve never really discussed it.”

Fred smiled. “Oh, yes. Let’s fill a house with little Thursdays. Or at least a couple. Don’t want Artemis getting too jealous.”

With a bit of a silly grin and a sigh, Win kissed him some more. She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of Fred’s lips.

He kissed her back. “Yes, one of each. A little girl as beautiful as her mother and a little boy as daft as his dad, ‘til he grows up and finds someone sensible to look after him.” He imagined their family home, school uniforms and half-size toothbrushes. It seemed cruelly within reach right at this moment, setting aside what had to come between.

Seeing the route Fred’s thoughts were taking, she squeezes his hand, “we’ll have all of that and more and in a world that you’ve made safer for them.”

“Won’t we just.” He kissed her cheek, and thought miserably that a similar motivation had probably sent his father off to war before him. The war to end all wars, indeed. Well, they had tried.

Win tilted her head. She’d become good enough at reading him that she knew exactly what to ask, “your father... you never really talk about him. What was he like?”

Fred marvelled briefly at her ability to discern his thoughts. “He was... a good man,” he said, almost distantly. “He survived the Great War and came home to my mother, but he....they found a bit of shrapnel in his heart when he died, it had worked its way through over the years, so in the end, I s’pose the war killed him after all.” He shrugged. “I was nine, and I barely remembered him happy anyway, so I was fairly accepting of the explanation that he’d gone to be happy up there.” He nodded toward the ceiling. 

“I have good memories, family things, but all my aunts said he was never the same after the war and, being born during it, I didn’t get much chance to know him before.” He gave a half-smile. “In a funny kind of way, knowing I’ll following in his footsteps soon is the closest I’ve felt to him in a long time.”

Stroking his hair, Win looked Fred in the eye, “we’ll light a candle for him, on Sunday. And we should take a trip to see your mum soon.” Win and Mrs Thursday got on like a house on fire, exchanging recipes and stories about Fred- Win knew they would need to help each other to get through this and be able to provide Fred with the support he would need from each of them.

“Good idea.” Fred loved the way his fiancée and his mother got along; even if there was the occasional funny story at his expense. His mother was a happy soul who’d always wanted a daughter in her heart of hearts, and the reply to their letter telling her of their engagement had been overflowing with spidery handwritten joy. It would be lovely to see her again in person. “Though I warn you, she’s had weeks alone with her wedding lists now. She’ll be unstoppable.” He grinned.

“I’ll bake that sponge she gave me the recipe for. Hopefully it’ll survive the journey in one piece.” She kissed Fred languidly, feeling a little more settled now they were actually talking rather than skirting around the issues at hand.

“Keep it out of the driver’s reach then,” Fred chuckled, glad to hear her more at ease and beginning to feel it himself. “That cake is my childhood in a tin.”

“We should probably make plans to visit my family as well, soon.” It had been a long time since she’d seen them and she knew that Fred wanted to ask for her hand from her father to make it official. It was a long journey to her childhood home and Fred had yet to be able to take the time off work to make the journey himself and meet her family.

“Yes, we must,” he mused. “Do you think...do think your father will approve? I know how much he dotes on you, love, I can only hope he’ll settle for the likes of me.” He kissed her again. He wasn’t gravely worried, but he knew any slight objection from Mr Kelly would hurt Win and throw a spanner in the otherwise well-oiled works.

Win gave him a smile “they’re all going to love you. Father will think you’re wonderful and probably talk you to death about politics and want to know everything you think about ‘modern policing.’ My brothers will all give you the clichéd ‘if you hurt her I’ll hurt you’ speeches, but their barks are far worse than their bites.”

“I’ll look forward to that, then.” He grinned. “Though they’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Artemis certainly approves, and that’s all that counts,” she motioned to the cat who was curled close to Fred, purring like a train.

“Couldn’t dream of a better recommendation,” Fred agreed, smiling. Artemis nuzzled against his arm and he stroked her fondly. “My favourite girls, you two.”

“And you’re certainly one of Artie’s top two humans. She’s even less keen on everyone else these days.”

He tickled Artemis under the chin, to her purry delight. “I said the first day we met she was a good judge of character, didn’t I,” he said smugly.

Win pondered for a moment, “how do we explain the war to her? That you’ll be going away.”

Fred was quiet for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about that. Poor Artie. She’ll think I’ve abandoned you both. I’ll have some grovelling to do when I come back.”

“Bring some fish with you, she’ll forgive you soon enough,” she stroked Artie gently from nose to tail.

“I’ll be sure to,” he said sincerely. “The best I find on my travels.”

Win cuddled him close and stroked a hand down his side to his bottom, squeezing cheekily.

“Watch it, you,” he laughed, nipping gently at her ear before dissolving into kissing her.

With a huge grin, Win kissed back, eyes bright.

The despair which had hit when he first heard the news had melted into a heady kind of ecstasy at having her so close. He kissed her again and again; forehead, cheeks, nose, neck, finally alighting on her lips again.

Win moaned into his mouth and pressed herself closer, straddling his hips.

His hands explored her, tracing lines, caressing, catching in her hair as he kissed her more. The world could end outside her bedroom door and he’d be none the wiser. 

She moaned and moved against him with a quirked eyebrow, far bolder now. She felt liberated by the need to make the most of the time they had left together before the war. If this was to be it for them, then she swore to make every second count.


	10. A Gruesome Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred faces a gory challenge on a case with his Inspector

Keeping his mind off the subject of Win the next day at the station was so far from possible that Fred had surrendered before he’d been there an hour. Let his colleagues smirk; who knew how long he had left to exist in this bliss-world? But that wasn’t a question even to be thinking about. He put it firmly from his mind, and went back to chewing on a pen and thinking of the most wonderful girl in the world, the one he’d somehow managed to get himself engaged to, and who he’d walk every step on a battlefield for until it was time to come home. 

Fred’s Sergeant, Cavendish, came over to him at about noon. “Something’s come through- a suspicious in Mile End. Crime scene lot’s working on it now, you’re to meet the guv- I’m going to notify the missus.”

It was enough to snap Fred right back into the present, and he nodded to Cavendish, “Right.” On his way to get the car he paused at Win’s desk. “Been called out, love, I’ve got to go and meet the governor. Might not be back when you finish but I’ll try.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek. 

Win paused in her typing to look up at him “be careful, my love. I’ll see you later.” She rose to give him a proper hug and kiss.

“I will,” he promised, and continued on his way. Once outside, he got into the driver’s seat and headed off for Mile End, not entirely sure what to expect once he arrived.

It was a very gruesome scene indeed; even the pathologist looked a little queasy. Thursday’s Inspector was overseeing, looking grim. He nodded in acknowledgment when he saw him. “Easy does it, there, Thursday. This isn’t ideal for your first corpse, but it had to come some day,” he nodded to the pathologist to pull back the sheet.

He felt his own eyes widen as if he were watching the reaction on someone else’s face; his heart lurched, and the urge to just turn and run was considerable. At the same time, though, the sight of the body exerted an otherworldly kind of pull over him, as if to look away would exercise some kind of right he didn’t have, he being still alive when this man was not. 

Vaguely, he registered feeling light-headed, but he forced himself to swallow and not to sway, and gradually it became bearable if he tried not to connect what he was seeing with the idea of an actual person. It became flesh to him, a corpse and not a body. “What...what happened here?” He managed, voice rasping.

Baxendale placed a firm hand on his charge’s arm and led him to a nearby bench. “An attempt at beheading, by the looks. Among other things. We’ll know more when the report’s back but this was calculated. Gang revenge, most probably. Certainly makes a statement.”

“Yes...” Fred could hardly disagree with that. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do something like that to a fellow human being, and trying to imagine it only made him even more thankful for the fact he was sitting down. “So. What are we...where do we start?” He felt slightly idiotic asking the question, but this was his first proper murder case and it all felt a little unreal.

Baxendale, who had been holding his hat rather than wearing it, set it firmly on his head. “We start at the pub. Come on, this one’s on me.”

Fred chose to focus on this detail for a second, and vowed that one day he’d be as assured and unruffleable has his superior, and have a hat of his own to emphasise the fact. He followed Baxendale’s lead, glad to be leaving the scene behind and heading to the comparative comfort of the pub.

The Inspector ushered Thursday into a corner seat and went to buy them pints. He brought them over, nodding to the regulars he knew.

‘Cheers’ exchanged, Fred sipped at his pint, feeling it beginning to calm him slightly. They could solve this, probably. He listened as Baxendale summarised what they knew about the deceased, and Fred blanched slightly at the mention of the wife Cavendish had gone to inform. How unthinkably awful it must be to be told your husband had been killed in the first place - let alone in this way.

Baxendale saw his look and decided that talk of the case could wait until they had something more concrete to go on. Thursday was a good man, and had the makings of an excellent policeman, but at twenty five years of age he was still little more than a boy- no sense barrelling in on and spooking him on his first such case. “How’s that young lady of yours, anyway?”

It didn’t take long for the grin to spread all over Fred’s face, this being the best change of subject possible. “She’s marvellous,” he says honestly. “We’re engaged to be married. Probably won’t happen for a little while, what with...what with what’s coming, but she’s something special, sir.”

The older man nodded, satisfied. “It’s an excellent thing, Thursday, the love of a good woman. It would have been a damn sight harder to get through the last mess without my Emily waiting for me at home.”

Fred sampled his pint once more. “Does she worry about you all the time, sir, or has it got easier over the years?” He was not fool enough to believe Win worried as little as she let him see, and knowing she was proud of his bravery was little consolation for being the one to make her so anxious.

Baxendale shock his head with a wry smile. “It’s been ‘come home safe’ every day from my first on the force. The kids helped, though- spread the load, I suppose.”

Fred nodded, understanding. It was no more than he’d expected when he’d asked the question. Kids, again. Even if he hadn’t wanted them, which he had, he could see that having a family was more or less the best option for a copper. At least with a number in excess of the two of them, no-one would be left alone if the worst was to befall him. “And how are the kids?” he asked politely.

“Peter’s a young criminal in the making but fortunately Beth and Simon keep him in line. Simon’s thinking of becoming a copper, y’know? Clearly we’ve not put him off just yet.” Though his manner was, as ever, gruff, he took on an air when talking about his children that those who knew him well could see was fondness.

Fred loved to see it, hoping he’d get the chance to talk about his own in a very similar way, one day. “There’s time,” he says, chuckling. He admires his Inspector, though, and thinks it fairly reasonable that a son of his should want to follow in his footsteps. It’s natural for most young men, after all, to want to emulate their fathers, he thinks, as a glimpse of his father’s uniform and Webley flitted in and out of his mind.

After draining the rest of his pint, Baxendale rose “shall we?” He motioned towards the door.

Fred followed suit, and stood up from the table. “Where to?” he asked as they reached the car.

“I got the names of a few of our victim’s associates. Thought we might pay them a visit.”

Fred watched the faces of two work colleagues, a housekeeper, a brother-in-law and a drinking pal fall as the reason for the questions about their relationships with the victim were revealed. White faces, wide eyes, gasps. The thought that one of them might even be acting out their anguish disturbed him further still. Even so, on some level he was fascinated by his first murder investigation. Baxendale led him through it capably, even letting him ask the odd question himself.

At the end of the day, they both went to the station mortuary to witness the post-mortem. Baxendale stood upright and unruffled as the pathologist described to them the injuries plain to the open eye. Then he began to cut, and still the Inspector appeared solemnly un-phased.

How did he do it? Fred could hear his own heartbeat, could feel the blood trickling as though it were running over his own fingers. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, and with every incision he felt himself wincing. He stumbled against the counter against the wall, hitting his head on the cabinet above it, but barely felt the impact. Everything was blurred, and he clung to consciousness only because not to do so would be an embarrassing display of weakness.

Baxendale heard the crash and turned to see the young policeman’s predicament. He took a step backwards and took hold of his arm, “‘s only natural. Breathe slowly. Let go if you need to. I’ve got you.”

Fred took a few deep breaths. Just blood, that was all. Just a bit of blood. Baxendale’s hand on his arm was a steadying force, and he managed to swallow down some of his discomfort. “I’m all right,” he said finally, “thanks, sir. Sorry about that.”

The Inspector nodded, understanding. “Come on, we’ll get a cup of tea. I can come back for the report later.”


	11. A Gift of Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred and Win get ready for a trip to see Mrs Thursday.

“Mortifying,” Fred told Win later that evening. “Can’t believe I almost fainted.”

Win shuddered and cuddled him tightly “I would have been out like a light!”

Fred smiled. He’d spared her the details, mainly referring to the mangled corpse as a ‘dead body’, and he was glad that the likelihood of her ever having to see what he’d seen today was so slight. “I’m supposed to be a policeman,” he said ruefully. “I know it’s silly, but I’ve never felt less like one before today.”

“My love, it was your first dead body, and it sounds horrific. It’s not your fault, darling. Now cuddle in and relax, dinner will be a little while yet.”

Fred had no problem accepting this invitation, though it did worry him slightly that he’d needed her to say it quite so much. He was supposed to be going off to war soon - there’d be far more corpses and far fewer kind words out there. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, love,” he said, and wished he wasn’t going to have to find out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said with certainty, stroking his hair

No, but I am, he wanted to say, but thought better of it and gave her a kiss instead. “I know.”  
“You can do better than that,” she said with a grin, moving to straddle his lap and kiss him more deeply. “You’re very distracting, you know? I could barely concentrate on the paperwork at all today.”

“A thousand apologies,” he said, mock-sincerely. “But in my defence, you are distracting in the extreme. I had to go and look at dead bodies to get my mind of off you.”

“And did it work?” she kissed him again, “were they a suitable antidote?” Kiss. “Or have you decided that on reflection you’d rather be distracted after all?”

“I have concluded,” he began, continuing her pattern of kiss-speak-kiss, “that distractions are neither desired nor required,” again, “and will no longer feature in this experiment.”

Moaning softly, Win slid a hand inside his shirt to stroke his chest.

His hands moved from her waist to her back, keeping her close, feeling the warmth of her skin through her cotton dress. 

Win kissed his nose and shuffled against his lap. She’s a quick learner and now the kitchen wasn’t the only place where she could give Fred exactly what he wanted.

Fred responded in kind, doing his best to please her as well as he knew how, though he was aware that she knew him better, more complexly, than he knew her. He was the luckiest man he knew, and he reminded himself of the fact frequently. 

When they’d reached a more than satisfactory conclusion, Win snuggled in contentedly, every bit her cat’s owner.

As if beckoned, Artemis came to join them, sensing that the part she was excluded from had ended. Fred laughed as she perched on his shoulder, stretching herself down him so she could also put her front paws on Win, thus proclaiming her ownership of them both. “Yes, Artemis...we are your humble servants,” he told her agreeably.

Win petted Artie, tickling underneath her chin. “Aren’t you a lovely cat, hmm?”

Artemis purred at her in agreement, always pleased when her humans stated the truth, even when they selected the more obvious statements. Fred smiled at the furry newcomer. “Can I also thank you, Artemis, for preparing me for today? Your presents of dead birds will no longer repulse me quite as much and may well have been the reason I didn’t faint at first sight.” 

“The half-mice are my particular favourites,” Win said with a smile in her voice. She petted Artemis again, gave Fred another kiss and slid off his lap to stretch. “The pie should be almost ready, I’ll make a start on the veg and mash... First thing’s first, though. Artie, it’s trout this evening.”

 

It amazed Fred how many names of different types of fish Artemis appeared to recognise. The small feline pounced down from his lap and followed her mistress into the kitchen. After a few moments, Fred followed too, and leant against the doorframe, watching his girl as she busied herself in the kitchen. “Can I help?” 

Win smiled at him and motioned to the carrots. “If you could peel and chop that would be wonderful, dear.” She was mashing the potato, putting real elbow effort in to get it as fluffy as possible.

Fred happily set about his task, humming a tune from the wireless, peeling the carrots only slightly more sloppily than Win herself might, he was sure. 

The pie was a triumph and they had enough leftovers to be able to take some with them the next day as they went to visit Mrs Thursday. Win knew Fred’s incredible sense of duty wouldn’t allow him to remain guilt free about taking a leave of absence at the beginning of a case (even well-deserved leave which his Inspector had been relieved he had requested, at last. That boy would work himself into the ground if he was given the opportunity). 

She also knew that he needed these few days desperately and she would do everything in her power to ensure that he had the enjoyable time he had earned; with this in mind, the morning saw her secretly conspiring with Baxendale, using a public telephone as she popped out to get the morning papers. 

Baxendale then telephoned Fred to let him know what fortuitous timing he had: that obviously he would be missed, but that this was the right kind of case to introduce some newly transferred detectives to the altogether meaner streets of London, but they wouldn’t have to be the ones to see the mangled body first hand. He doubted they’d cope as well as Fred, soft as they were.

Fred accepted with gratitude, though not entirely without suspicion. His reaction to the stiff hadn’t been quite as capable as it might have been, after all, but never look a gift horse..., he told himself, and grinned at Win the moment he returned the receiver. “Well, there’s a bit of luck!”

Win looked up from packing Artemis’s travel bag (of course their furry child was coming with them; she had decided on her first meeting that Mrs Thursday too was a human she approved of). “Oh yes, love? What’s happened?” She did her best to hide her satisfied smile at a successfully executed plan.

“I was worried about taking the leave after all, what with the new case, but the governor’s talking like I’ve done him a favour instead of the other way round!” He studied her face for any hint of involvement, though surely even Win couldn’t have manoeuvred this without him noticing, could she? “Said it was a good case to get some new boys in on, but without them having to see the corpse. Funny how things turn out, eh?” 

Win kissed him gently “I’m so pleased for you. It would have been horrible for you to spend the whole time at your mum’s feeling like you ought not be there.” She placed the last of Artemis’s toys in the bag and buckled it up. “That’s the packing done. Could you usher Artie in the direction of her carrier?”

Fred accepted her apparent innocence, and looked down mock-warily at Artemis. “I’ll try,” he said, grinning. He bent to stroke her, informing her that she was a good cat (a fact of which she was well aware) and that she would be very cosy in her carrier (a lie to which she could only respond with a disbelieving glare) and that Mrs Thursday would have a special, fish-based treat waiting on arrival (a promise that might just be worth playing along for). Fred’s grin when she finally made the first step carrier-wards was a little too victorious, though, so she decided to have a little rest on the way, making it clear that further steps would not be taken until fuss was supplied. 

Win watched fondly “she’s got you there, haven’t you Artie?” She passed Fred some leftover meat from the sandwiches to offer to Artie as a treat when she was fully installed (whenever that might be).

Fred winked at Win and casually sauntered towards the carrier with the scraps clearly on display, at which point Artemis appeared to take pity on him, and made her approach. She insisted on receiving some of the meat prior to her entry, and accepted the rest once she was inside. Fred grinned. “See, all you need is patience and skill. And also bribes.” 

Win chuckled “good girl, Artie. It’s good to humour him occasionally. You’ll bruise his ego otherwise- he’s a sensitive soul.”

“I am not,” he replied immediately, grinning at the hypocrisy. “It hurts me that you’d say that, Win.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Ready?”

“All ready,” she poked a finger into Artemis’s carrier to stroke her nose. “Off we go. Adventure time, Artemis.”

Fred picked up the largest of the bags to take them out to the car, whistling as he went. The long weekend stretched ahead of him, a beacon of relaxation and calm, and he couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it.


	12. Two Women, Two Cats, One Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A more than pleasant day at Mrs Thursday's house

When they arrived, Mrs Thursday was waiting at her front door to greet them- she must have heard their car, one of the few around. Win set Artemis’s carrier down on the floor in Mrs Thursday’s front gate and opened the door for her to trot out.

Fred busied himself with getting the bags from the boot as his mother greeted her daughter-in-law-to-be delightedly. When he made his own way through the gate, she threw her arms round him, and he heard her bite back the second syllable of his childhood ‘Freddie’, which he was pleased about. “I’ve missed you too,” he said, voice muffled against her shoulder. 

Win smiled at the two of them, and at Artemis doing figure of eights around their ankles, purring excitedly.

“Well then, you two, come on in!” Mrs Thursday said, and then as an afterthought, “sorry, Artemis, three, I mean! There’s salmon for you indoors.” Fred took Win’s hand as they walked up the path to his mother’s house. It was funny - he’d never lived here himself, but wherever Mrs Thursday rested her head had the habit of becoming ‘home’ to him just the same. 

Win carried the cake and the remains of the steak pie she had brought with her through to the kitchen, setting them down on the table and beginning to help Mrs Thursday with the food for later.

Fred nodded respectfully at the photograph of his father on the mantelpiece and grinned at Artemis, having already sampled her fish and curled up on one of the cushions on the armchair. Then he crossed to the kitchen, listening happily to his mother and Win catching up with each other. 

Both women chatted nineteen to the dozen, recounting events that had passed since they last spoke. The two of them began on dinner (roast pork with extra roast potatoes and veg which can be reheated along with the pie the next day), working together like a well-oiled machine.

Fred presented himself at the kitchen counter to be given a job. “Any peeling need doing? Win’s got me well trained, mum.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mrs Thursday remarked with fond amusement, passing him some carrots and sprouts to peel and chop. She watched him for several moments, practically glowing with her pride in him.

Fred glanced up and saw her watching him, and gave her a smile, though looking away was not a wholly brilliant idea and he nearly misplaced a blade into his hand. He covered it, though, in a way that he felt was expert, and relaxed into listening to their chatter once more. 

Win put the potatoes in to join the roasting meat which already smelt delightful, having been cooking for a few hours. Artemis caught a wiff and came in to investigate.

She wound herself around Fred’s ankles in a gesture of ownership, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen his mother’s own ginger tom yet. “Where’s Colin, Artemis?” he asked his furry slipper-substitute, “or have you scared him away already?” 

Mrs Thursday smiled down at her “he’s probably up on my bed if you want to sniff him out, girl.”

It appeared, though, that the aroma-filled kitchen was currently too captivating for Artemis to even consider such an action at this current time. “Stubborn,” Fred commented. 

Win crouched down to fuss her “good puss. You like roast pork, don’t you?”

Artemis intensified her purring. Fred chuckled, “With you two cooking, she’d be mad not to!”

Win picked Artemis up, holding her like a baby. “Got a healthy appetite, mmm?”

Fred tried not to stare too sappily at the sight of Win’s baby-cradling arms. Just a cat, remember, he told himself. His mother had her Grandchildren eyes on, he recognised the look. 

Win stroked Artie’s tummy as she lay in her arms purring, baby talking to her, oblivious to the doe-eyed onlookers.

Fred mouthed ‘one day’ to his mother and received a delighted grin. She’d not seen them since they confirmed with each other that they wanted to become parents at some point, but Fred knew she’d aspired to grandmother-hood practically since his birth. Then he cleared his throat and looked away before Win noticed them watching. “Vegetables done,” he announced. 

Win smiled “excellent job love.” She kissed Artie’s nose and set her down on her paws. “Go and find your friend.”

Artemis sauntered off, satisfied that none of these well-trained humans would dare to finish the delicious-smelling meal without saving her some. Fred watched her, amused. “That cat. She’s fully aware that she owns the place.”

Win kissed Fred’s cheek, looking at him as if he was the most precious thing in the world to her. Which he was. Fred’s mother looked close to tears of joy at the scene.

Fred gazed back at her. Every so often he remembered just how in love with her he was and it was near enough breath-taking, no matter how tuppenny novel that sounded. “Well!” He said after a moment. “Any more jobs for me?”

“I think we’ve earned ourselves a break. I’ll it the kettle on, how does tea in the living room sound?”

Mrs Thursday announced that it sounded like a splendid idea. “And I’m sure we have plenty of digestion time left before dinner so a biscuit or two won’t hurt!”

He chuckled. Some things never changed. He got the cups and saucers from the cupboard while Win dealt with the kettle side of proceedings, humming merrily once more. 

When Mrs Thursday bustled through to the living room with the biscuits, Win seized the opportunity to push Fred up against the kitchen counter and kiss him soundly. Meanwhile, Artemis has bounced up onto Mrs Thursday’s bed to nose at Colin. She hadn’t seen him in a couple of months and had missed him in her way.

Colin batted a paw in Artemis’s direction, which she took as a renewal of their friendship and took it upon herself to share his pillow. Some important lounging could be accomplished while their humans were downstairs drinking not-milk. 

Fred felt an almost adolescent thrill at kissing a girl in his mother’s house where they might be discovered any second - not that this particular display would have made his mother bat an eyelid, certainly not now she’d accepted Win as family. He kissed her back with equal enthusiasm, and afterwards carried the tray through to the living room behind her with a wide grin on his face. 

Mrs Thursday, no mental slouch, took one look at her son and knew exactly what he’d been up to. She smiled internally thinking ‘that’s my boy.’ Win followed him, also grinning.

The two of them sat close together on the settee, and all three sipped their tea happily. The weather received some comment, as did Mrs Thursday’s garden, the evening wireless programmes, Fred’s job and the chickens belonging to the lady next door. In short, anything that wasn’t the war and Fred’s impending role in it was fair game, and this suited Fred down to the ground. 

Artemis and Colin finally saw fit to grace their humans with their lofty presence, both flopping down in front of the fire, sniffing in the direction of the kitchen.

“Soon, you two,” Fred promised, and at the sound of his voice Artemis left her station and jumped into his lap. Not to be outdone, Colin joined her, despite Artemis stretching out her limbs as far as they’d go to try and prevent him from sharing. All in all, Fred was left with the odd sensation of being buried in cat. 

Win tried to stifle her giggle with her hand and failed spectacularly. Mrs Thursday didn’t even bother trying to hide her merriment “they both have you wrapped around their paws. Imagine if those rough sorts you spend your days chasing down could see you now.”

Fred made a show of pride, “they would be astounded at my magnetism! And all the more respectful of...yes, alright.” He too dissolved into giggles, another feature which might not have earnt him much fear from the criminal classes. 

Colin and Artemis both looked disdainful at the fact their seat was vibrating and migrated onto Win’s lap instead. “Oh now you’ve done it,” there was a bright smile in her voice.

“So fickle,” Mrs Thursday remarked. “Colin’s just showing off because Artemis is here, usually he’ll sit in front of the fire and not move from the moment he wakes up to the moment his evening food goes in the bowl.” 

“Cats. Laws unto themselves,” Fred agreed, still grinning, amused at the sight of the two felines battling for the better position atop his fiancée. 

Win took in a sharp intake of breath as a paw caught her rib, “whoever did that, it tickled something rotten.” Her eyes were alight with merriment as she caught Fred’s gaze.

Artemis smartly exited from the fray before she was blamed, leaving Colin to the tickling powers of her small human as she perched on the knee of Colin’s own. 

“It’s musical chairs from an entirely different angle,” Mrs Thursday observed, and Fred was reminded of the birthday party games of yesteryear. His mother set her teacup down to pet Artemis. “You are lovely, aren’t you,” Artemis was pleased it wasn’t phrased as a meaningless question. 

Win smiled “she knows she is.” She pondered for a moment, “I wonder how she’d be as a mummy cat.”

Fred considered this. “I think she’d be good at it. She’s very good at getting us to do what she wants, at least. They’d be the best behaved kittens around.”

Mrs Thursday looked between Artemis and Colin who suddenly seemed to her to be looking rather shifty. Artie licked a paw demurely while Colin shuffled, kneading Win’s leg with his paws.

Fred caught his mother’s eye and let out a sudden guffaw. “You think--!” 

She gave a wry smile. “It wouldn’t surprise me... Look at them! Bashful as anything...”

He chuckled. “Be good to her, Colin.” 

Win chuckled “we might well be grandparents, Fred.”

Mrs Thursday petted Artie’s ears “is there a bun in the oven, dear girl?”

“So you can skip straight to those, after all!” Fred quipped. 

Artemis looked up at Mrs Thursday with a questioning look. “I suppose you can’t be sure yet,” Colin’s human continued. “But see to it that these two young things take good care of you if there is, hmm?” 

Win reached out to tickle Artie’s ears “well, let’s start as we mean to continue and pamper you with pork, eh girl?”

Artemis purred with approval, and Colin thoughtfully transferred himself back to Fred’s lap to allow Win to stand. Fred patted the tom cat absentmindedly. Determined as he was not to dwell on it, thoughts of war did flicker now and then but he was considerably cheered by the thought of the potential kittens: they’d be a pleasant distraction for them both in the run-up to his departure, and for Win while he was gone.


	13. Fluff and Fur

Win and Mrs Thursday dished out the dinner, putting a generous portion of pork in each of the cat bowls. Both Win and Mrs Thursday ended up giving Fred extra gravy, the two grinning at each other when they realised.

The meal was exquisite, worthy of its two expert cooks. Fred hummed in appreciation, and praised their efforts. 

Win’s eyebrow rose when Colin offered Artemis some of his pork. She nudged Fred to look.

Fred looked at her in confusion for a second before spotting the scene. Artemis partook daintily of the offering, every inch a flattered lady. Fred had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

“They’re courting, love,” Win grinned at him.

“Hmm, yes. Only, she’s allowing him to provide her with food...” Fred replied, pretending to pout at the memory of their first outing together. 

Win chuckled and kissed his cheek, “was your hunter-gatherer pride hurt terribly, my love?”

“I’m inching towards recovery,” he said pitifully, then grinned and returned the peck. 

Mrs Thursday, watching them, couldn’t help but smile either - Win was the best thing that could possibly have happened to her Fred, she was sure of it. 

Win rested her hand on Fred’s and kissed his cheek. “I love you, my darling,” her expression was completely sincere as she looked into his dark eyes. Mrs Thursday looked like she might cry with happiness.

“And I, you.” He replied, voice just above a murmur. This pushed his mother over the edge.

“I’m sorry, don’t mind me,” she said, laughing even as she sniffled. “You two are so wonderful together. I’m so happy you’ve got each other; it’s a rare thing, what you have. Don’t ever take it for granted.” 

Fred thought he caught her cast a wistful glance at his father’s picture, but he may have imagined it. He leant over to kiss his mother on the forehead. “We won’t, promise.” 

Win was mortified at having made Mrs Thursday cry, even happy tears. She hugged her tightly “we’re all family now, Mrs Thursday.”

She recovered her composure quickly, smiling blissfully at the two of them. “Yes we are, pet, and I’d not have it any other way.” 

Fred nodded his agreement, thinking with some awe just how much he owed these two women, who’d been, between the two of them, everything he’d ever needed. 

Win smiled at Mrs Thursday, kissing her cheek before returning to Fred and her meal. She offered him a carrot from her fork, grinning.

Fred laughed at her and nibbled at it, “We can share.” 

“Only seems right. The cats are doing so.”

“Artemis will be pleased that we’re finally following her lead in all things,” Fred agreed, “If she’s not too disgruntled by the fact that it took us so long to knuckle under.”

Mrs Thursday smiled at the two cats, and then chucked at Fred and Win. “You are the limit, you two.” 

Win beamed and kissed Fred’s nose, which made his eyes cross in a way that she always found frankly adorable.

Fred chuckled at her adoring expression, and kissed her nose too, not to be outdone. He decided that if she was going to make it a habit, he wouldn’t mind in the least. 

Full and content, Win began offering leftovers to the cats while leaning happily against Fred.

He watched as Colin and Artemis polished off what was left, sneaking an arm round Win as she pressed close to him. This was the life.

Win tried to stifle a yawn. It had been a long drive and a busy day. Mrs Thursday smiled indulgently at them, “the bed’s made up.” Bed, singular. Win blinked and coloured, Mrs Thursday looked a little bit embarrassed and a little bit smug. 

They were engaged, that was as good as married in her eyes, and she wanted them to have every opportunity they could grasp to be close to each other, and wanted them to know she understood. She only wished she had had the courage to cling to her husband in those last few months before he went away, never to return as he had been again.

Fred gave his mother a smile that was one part sheepish, nine parts grateful. “Thanks, mum.” He stood and offered Win his hand.

Win took his hand, said a grateful goodnight to Mrs Thursday and headed up to bed with Fred, trusting the cats to know where to find them should they be needed for cuddling purposes.

The last dregs of sunlight were still leaking through the windows of the bedroom, making patterns on the clean white sheets. Fred kissed Win in the doorway, up against the frame, weary but loving.

Leaning up against her Fred, Win kissed his lips and neck, undoing his cardigan and shirt. “I love you, Fred Thursday. Today has been glorious.” She nuzzled up against him, her hands sneaking cheekily to his bottom.

“Hasn’t it just,” he started on the buttons of her blouse, but then pulled her closer to kiss her again. “I love you too.”

Win wriggled free a little and tugged him over to the bed. “Come on, you.”

He followed her, grinning, “well, if you insist...”

“Oh, I do.” She rid herself of her clothes and slide under the bedcovers, waiting for him to join her.

He copied, and took her in his arms once they were both under the duvet. The bed was soft and comfortable, easy to be content in.

She pressed herself close, humming contentedly. “I don’t see how anyone could see this as wrong... it feels so right, so natural to be with you like this.”

“Mmm,” he said agreeably. “Especially...” The end of that sentence was sour and terrifying, and so instead of saying especially since I could be shot dead in a few months, he said “especially since my mother doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Besides,” Win noted with amusement, “the cats are unwed.”

Fred let out a giggle, “Yes, the very height of iniquity. Perhaps we should have a double wedding.”

“What does one include in a ceremony of catrimony?” Win enquired, eyebrow quirking in amusement as she ran her fingers through his thick hair.

“Viaows,” he quipped, hand on her cheek. “And an exchange of...collars.”

Win laughed heartily, “this absolutely must happen. I won’t hear of anything else.”

He loved the sound of her laugh. “Well, what madam desires, madam shall receive!” he said, chuckling. “They’ll enjoy the attention too.”

She smiled softly and gave him an unhurried kiss. “I hope we will have kittens”

“I hope they have kittens. I’m still holding out for a human baby on our end,” he said cheekily before kissing her again.

Win pretended to be offended, “you mean to say you’ll love our child less if it’s furry and betailed?”

“Not in the least,” he said, innocently, “I’ll adore it, whiskers and all, but it’ll get teased at school something rotten.”

With a giggle, Win snuggled closer and reached down to stroke his chest.

Fred drew his outer arm around her, and dropped a kiss in her hair.

Artemis decided that her humans could probably take care of themselves for the night and curled up with Colin in his basket, purring happily.

Colin shuffled over to make room for her, ever the gentlemanly cat. He hoped she would be staying for a while. There was a whole neighbourhood of mogs to show her off to.


End file.
